


electrify my heart

by deanau



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Barista Jake, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Law Student Amy, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-02-26 21:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18725431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanau/pseuds/deanau
Summary: Jake has just started working at Kevin's indie coffee shop, PB&J, to save up enough to move to New York and start his training at the police academy. Amy attends the nearby university, studying Law.





	1. Chapter 1

 

Jake’s shift that day began as it often did: with Charles rushing over to greet him. Charles beamed up at him, already chattering at top speed as Jake rolled up his sleeves and put on his apron. Charles thrust a coffee cup towards Jake as soon as his hands were free – another one of the rituals which had solidified themselves in the short two weeks that Jake had been employed at PB&J’s, an independent coffee shop situated near the university.

 

He’d finally saved enough to get a flat of his own, but he didn’t want to leave his Mum completely – his Dad had done enough of that, and there was no way Jake would ever put her through something similar, not ever. But he needed his own space, so he’d packed up his copies of _Die Hard_ and his old mattress, and settled himself into a small flat about half an hour away from her house. He’d worked in a shoe shop, before that, and he’d been reluctant to leave it – fresh sneakers at an even fresher discount – but he wanted to feel as though he was moving on with his life, moving in the right direction.

 

The door chimed. The owner of the shop, Kevin, was an old-fashioned academic; interested in the welfare of people and animals, he’d set up his coffee shop in honour of his husband, Raymond Holt, a black, gay captain in the NYPD. It was plastic-free, sustainable, and vegan. Jake had been very dubious in the beginning, and still was, to an extent, but he also appreciated Kevin’s ideals. He’d even named the shop after Raymond’s favourite sandwich – which Jake appreciated a whole lot more than the vegan food. However, a lot of the décor was clearly influenced by his personal taste – and one such example was the small, old bicycle bell which hung over the door. Jake was a little in awe of both of them. He’d only met Holt once, but he’d found himself staring up at him with the adoring eyes of a child as he relayed, seemingly emotionlessly, his triumphs within the police force. It only prompted Jake to work even harder, and to take on as many shifts as he could manage.

 

Charles elbowed Jake, nudging him and waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Jake returned the look, a less obnoxious cock of one eyebrow asking “What?” as he washed his hands. He liked Charles – and Charles sure seemed to like him, maybe a bit too much considering the amount of time they’d known each other – but he was somewhat over-zealous. Charles spoke quietly, but his mouth seemed to move an exaggerated amount. “Look over there.”

 

Jake turned towards the door, already arranging his face into an expression which he thought would appease Charles. He wasn’t expecting to be excited – Charles had once accidentally dropped a latte mid-foam because he’d remembered that his delivery of double-fermented Albanian goat’s cheese was being delivered that afternoon. Whilst Jake was at PB&J’s as a means to save up enough to move to New York and enrol in the police academy, Charles was there because of his love of food. Although Jake was pretty sure Charles didn’t get paid any more than he did, Charles would often arrive early before they opened to ensure that the pastries and cakes were all of perfect quality, repeatedly citing that cakes didn’t have to be fancy, they just had to be _good_. However, he was even more against the idea of vegan food than Jake was, and often tried to convince Kevin that he should add a little cream or goose fat to some of his recipes; to these suggestions, Kevin’s response was always the same: a list of reasons as to why vegan food was more sustainable, which Charles found it impossible to argue with. Charles dreamt of being able to open his own food truck in New York, and as soon as he’d found out that Jake’s plan was to move there, he’d invited himself along and signed them both up to a savings app that would make sure they hit their targets at the same time. Jake had already resigned himself to having Charles in his life for a long time, and for some reason he didn’t mind the idea. If anything, it was nice to know he had a friend who looked up to him so much. This didn’t change the fact that he found him more than a little eccentric, however, so when he turned and saw perhaps the most stunning woman he’d ever seen his shock was due mostly to her beauty – but also because Charles had been right about something.

 

Jake found himself going red even before she’d looked at him. He busied himself wiping at the counter, scrubbing the same spot meticulously as he tried to avoid eye contact. He heard her footsteps stop, and felt her presence unnervingly close to him. He looked up.

 

She had silky brown hair, and his first thought was that she reminded him of a Labrador. Her eyes, too, were brown, but it was her smile that really caught him off guard. It was a little shy, but it seemed situational – her tailored suit and freshly pressed shirt gave him the impression that this girl had her shit together. When she said “Hey,” he smiled without thought. Charles kicked him under the counter.

“Hi, what can I get for you today?”

“Could I get a soya latte, large, to take away please?”

“Of course,” Jake said, scrawling letters onto a takeaway cup. “What’s the name?”

“Amy,” she smiled.

“You got a lot of work to get done?” He nodded at the three large binders she had somehow managed to tuck under her arm as she fumbled with her purse. She froze.

“Oh my God,” she said, her eyes darting across the counter and back towards the door.

“What is it?” Jake asked, concern in his voice.

“Oh – it’s not that important, I’m sorry, I left one of my binders in the library, I can’t lose it – I’m sorry, I have to go-” she stammered. Without even one last glance at Jake, she rushed back out of the door, the bicycle bell chiming as the door slammed shut behind her.

 

“Nice work, Jake,” Charles winked. “She was melting all over you like wet goo.”

“Gross, Charles,” he moaned. He looked at the abandoned latte on the side, and sighed. He hadn’t felt so excited about a girl since Jenny Gildenhorn – that breakup had scarred him for life. But Amy seemed nice. He just had to hope that she’d come back into the shop sometime. He went through the rest of the day in a haze, his mind drifting back to that sweet smile and those deep, brown eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Amy fidgeted uncomfortably in the line. It was busier in the shop today than it had been a week ago, and she felt her nerves rising unreasonably as she neared the counter. She told herself off, sternly: _don’t be so stupid, Santiago – you’re just getting coffee_.

 

Jake had clocked her before she’d even come in; despite the lunch rush, he’d spotted her hair, tied high in a ponytail, as she’d walked along outside, then let his eyes follow her across every window and imagining her as moved out of sight when she neared the door, timing it perfectly with the tingle of the bicycle bell. He’d already written Amy on a large cup, and Charles had nodded at him, understanding immediately. By the time she was nearing the counter, her coffee was ready; Charles set it down just behind Jake, where she wouldn’t be able to see it. Jake had a moment of panic as she approached, tucking a couple of stray wisps of hair behind her ears – what if he had massively misread the situation? Would she appreciate his thoughtfulness, or – oh God – had Charles started making him into another Boyle?

 

She leant against the counter, colour rising in her cheeks, and he had no more time to panic. “Hi,” he spluttered, grinning. “Got all your binders this time?”

Now she blushed, moving her hands to tuck her hair behind her ears out of habit, even though she’d already brushed the tiny strays back into place in the queue. “I have,” she said, gesturing to the four that were stretching out her tote bag. Jake looked into the bag, following her nod, and noted that they all seemed to be colour co-ordinated. Cute.

“I have your coffee for you. I figured you’d want the same?”

“Look at these binders,” she laughed. “They’re colour co-ordinated and chronologically ordered. You think I’d be so frivolous as to mix up my coffee order?”

“Cool, that’s cool,” Jake smirked. “Really cool.”

“Hey! There is nothing cooler than being organised. Or stationary. The two together?”

“Don’t tell me,” Jake interjected. “I bet you get chills. Literal chills,” he teased.

“Maybe I do,” she shrugged. “Anyway – how much for the coffee? That line isn’t getting any smaller.”

“It’s on me,” he smiled. “You didn’t get your last one, so.”

“Are you sure?” At his nod, she took the latte. “Thank you – sorry, I didn’t actually get your name?”

“It’s Jake,” he said, as an older woman began pushing Amy away from the counter.

 

She took the coffee cup, and spotted an empty seat in the far corner. She had her laptop with her, and her notes, so she figured she could work in the coffee shop for a while. Maybe a change of scenery would do her some good. Plus, though she was loathe to admit it to herself, it would give her a little longer to sneak some small looks at Jake.

 

He had a big nose. Her parents wouldn’t approve of that. She mentally shook herself at the thought – why would her parents care about some guy who’d served her, well, not even twice, one-and-a-half times at a coffee shop? But he had nice eyes, too, and a broad smile, and hair that curled just a little, seeming to rebel against the short crop in the way it flopped forwards. He was fun to watch: his face was expressive, from the enthusiasm as he spoke to each customer and the outright discomfort at whatever the other barista was saying to him.

 

The other barista kept looking at him adoringly. She caught herself – oh God, was that what she was doing? Determined to study, she kept her eyes glued to her laptop screen for the next couple of hours. One of her binders was new; she kept inhaling the fresh binder smell, and it mixed with the scent of coffee which lay in the air. She smiled to herself. This was actually a really nice place to work. The shop itself was cosy, painted a deep brown with turquoise accents, and was littered with what seemed to be an eclectic mix of antiques. There were a number of large windows which wrapped around one side of the building towards the door. There were small lamps hanging off the walls at regular intervals, and larger lanterns positioned at every table.

 

As the afternoon faded into early evening the shop quietened down, and the lamps came on, dim at first but growing in luminosity as the sky outside darkened and the roads began to quiet. Reluctantly, Amy pulled herself away from her essay. She’d managed to make a thorough plan, and had started making notes on a number of academic sources; she thought that, just maybe, she could make this a regular work spot.

 

Carefully, she began packing up, mentally discussing the pros and cons of getting a new bag with which to hold her binders. Her focus was broken by the timid approach of the other barista. He was holding a cup of coffee in his hands, and he looked as though any surprise might make him lose his balance and drop the large cup, which only served to make his hands look even smaller.

 

“Hi,” he said, smiling broadly.

Amy settled her bag onto her shoulder. “Hello.”

“Jake asked me to give you this. His shift ended a while ago, and he didn’t want to disturb you, but he said that this was for you when you left.” He spoke in a strange rhythm, as though the words were trying to rush out without his permission, and he had to work to keep them at a somewhat more normal speed. Still holding the cup in both hands, he held it out to Amy.

“Thank you, that’s so kind,” she said, returning his smile.

“Jake’s a nice guy,” Charles said, as though he couldn’t help himself. “You two would be just perfect together. I hear wedding bells!”

Amy wasn’t entirely sure that he was joking, and immediately understood Jake’s expressions of discomfort throughout the afternoon. She arranged her face into a smile, and managed to force out a laugh. She didn’t think it was convincing, but Charles’s face fell. Oh no – he hadn’t been joking. She thought back to her extra seminar from earlier that term on conflict resolution.

“I’m sorry,” she appeased. “That was an excited laugh?”

Charles seemed to positively glow. “I’m so glad. I’d take a look at the other side of the cup, if I were you.” His eyes seemed to make a line to the back of the cup, directing her attention there. It suddenly felt very heavy in her hand. “I should go start closing up. I hope we see you again soon, Amy,” he said, waggling his eyebrows as he walked away. Amy had to stifle a snort. He was outright adorable – if a little full-on.

 

The bicycle bell tinkled above her as she left. It smelt fresh and crisp outside: the last dregs of summer were rapidly waning, and a frosty autumn was already taking its place. Amy mentally added a scarf to her otherwise immaculately planned outfit for tomorrow. As she walked, she slowly turned the cup in her hands. As she brushed through an avenue lined with old trees, she looked.

 

He’d written his name at the top, and underlined it twice. Underneath was what she assumed was his phone number, and a small blossom of hope unfurled in her chest. She shifted her bag into a more comfortable position on her shoulder, and took a sip. It was warm, and it helped to keep the cold at bay until she stepped back into her apartment.


	3. Chapter 3

 

The next few days passed in a blur for Amy: her timetable was full with lectures and seminars, plus extra-curricular meetings as the beginning of the semester always was, and especially so for her. She’d already completed the essay she’d begun in PB&J’s – and scoffed over how short and easy it was, putting it down to being of introductory level after the summer break, much to the dismay of her coursemates – but her workload was ever-increasing. It was her final year as a Family Law major, and she intended to make the most of her time at university. So she sat in the shade of the campus library, back against a tree, meticulously etching out a timetable and colouring in each individual section. She made a key in the bottom left corner, and was filling it out when she heard a familiar male voice speaking above her.

 

“Hey, Amy! How have you been?”

She looked up, unable to place the male voice. She hoped that she would see Jake, his features already half-familiar after her work stint at the coffee shop. She placed her notebook down on her propped-up knees, and tucked her hair back behind both ears, smiling as she raised her eyes to meet his.

 

It wasn’t Jake. His hair was darker and shorter, and his expression, though smiling, was more serious than any she’d seen Jake wear. It took her a minute to place him. Then: “Oh my God, Teddy! Hi!”

“Mind if I sit?”

“No, go ahead,” she said, carefully closing her notebook and placing it gently on the grass beside her. She hadn’t seen Teddy since her freshman year, when they’d been partners for a number of honours labs. They’d then met again at a seminar on fourth-wave feminism, but after her first year of university she hadn’t seen him around. “I haven’t seen you in – three years? Where have you been, Teddy? What’ve you been doing?”

“I actually took a year out from my studies – I know, don’t look at me like that – it was a good opportunity, amazing, actually.”

“What was it?” Amy chewed on her lip as he spoke, her eyes intent as she watched him speak. She’d definitely had something of a crush on Teddy when they’d first met, and as she’d watched him grow in confidence throughout the year the crush had warmed and grown with him, never a spark; a gentle, timid heat, like the heady buzz of champagne or the familiarity of pulling your duvet around you at night.

“I was volunteering in Kenya, in a town called Maktau. I did extra-curricular activities with the kids at the primary school there, and we played loads of soccer.” At this, he grinned. “I bet you weren’t expecting that, were you, Amy?”

“You, playing soccer?” She laughed. “I can see you being good with the kids, though.”

“It was on the border of the Tsavo West National Park, too, and the Ludo Community Wildlife Sanctuary. A whole group of us went out and volunteered with the animals, one day, and another we took some of the kids with us to look at all the animals.”

“It sounds incredible, Teddy, it really does.” Amy could feel that old warmth surfacing again. On paper, Teddy was perfect. He was diligent and thoughtful, he worked hard, he had ambitions, and he was nice. Sweet, even.

“Then after l got back, I’ve just been super busy. I’ve started brewing my own Pilsners,” he said, pride colouring his tone, and Amy began to remember why it hadn’t taken her all that long to move on from her crush.

“Pilsners?”

“Yeah, you know, the beer? They’re technically a type of lager, but they have a strong, hoppy flavour, they can be quite floral but also quite spicy…”

 

Amy zoned out, letting his words wash over her. She couldn’t believe that Teddy had taken a year out to volunteer in Kenya. And what had she been doing? Sure, she’d nearly finished her degree, but that was nothing special, especially not compared to the nurturing and educational work Teddy had been doing while he was away. Loads of people had degrees, she mused, but not everyone had been to Kenya. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly. It was a minute movement, driven by her competitive nature, but Teddy noticed it.

 

“Oh, Amy, are you okay? You look like you’re in pain.”

“No, Teddy, I’m fine. I’m sorry. You were saying about the Pilsners originating in the Czech Republic?”

“Well, technically, yes, but when it was part of the German-speaking Austrian Empire. Oh – Amy, I’m sorry, I completely lost track of the time. I have a class that starts in twenty minutes on the other side of campus, so I’d better head off.”

“That’s fine, Teddy, it was really nice to see you! We shouldn’t leave it so long next time.”

“Well,” Teddy paused. He seemed emboldened by her suggestion, took a deep breath, and blurted: “We should go for lunch some time. Could I have your number?”

“Sure,” Amy said, somewhat surprised. He handed his phone over, so she typed her number in. He was fidgeting and beamed like a child on Christmas morning as he waited.

“Thanks,” he said as he stood. He paused for a moment, before crouching back down and giving her the tiniest, briefest peck of a kiss on the cheek. Then he pulled himself up, and turned before marching off, re-arranging his satchel and fiddling with his phone as he walked.

 

She watched him go, more than a little nonplussed by their interaction. Refusing to let herself dwell on it for too long, she shifted so that she was sitting more comfortably before pulling her notebook back onto her lap. Her timetable was almost finished, so she resolved to stay there until it was done – hopefully leaving her with enough time to grab a coffee before she had to head to her next class.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

That evening, she had re-organised her collection of antique books so that her more recent additions slotted in seamlessly on their shelf. Taking stock of her work, she fell back onto her bed. Her apartment was small, but cosy: a couple of her coursemates had laughed at the way she’d decorated it, calling her a premature grandma and snorting at the doilies on her dining table, but she didn’t mind. It suited her.

 

Idly, she reached for her phone, unplugging it from where it had been on charge. She moved so that she was lying on her back, her knees bent and her feet pulled up towards her back so that her knees were pointed up towards her lamp. She pulled a pillow from the top of the bed and propped her head up with it, before scrolling through her phone. She replayed the events from earlier that day – she hadn’t had a chance to go to the coffee shop, as one of her coloured pens was almost halfway run out and she couldn’t risk it running dry, so she’d had to go to the student shop and had got an iced latte from there instead. She had to admit to herself that she’d been more than a little disappointed at the missed opportunity to see Jake. She wanted him to message her. But then there was Teddy – he was so nice. Teddy would be a good match for her; she had to admit it to herself, even as she cringed at the thought of more conversations about Pilsners. But, she countered, surely there was only one conversation they could have about brewing and bottling Pilsners, and they’d had that already.

 

Her phone buzzed. Her finger paused on her open sudoku puzzle app, the notification dangling tantalisingly from the top of the screen: _1 New Message_. But who did she want it to be from – Jake, or Teddy? She took a deep breath, and opened the message.


	4. Chapter 4

Amy stared at the message, not sure how to feel. She was glad that she was alone; she had time to fully process everything she felt, to neatly organise it in her head in order of importance. Uncertainty was definitely up there, she decided, but excitement was overriding it.

 

_Amy – it was so good to see you today! It’s been too long. I know it’s short notice, but if you’re free tomorrow I’d love to take you out for lunch. Teddy x_

 

There was, however, a shot of disappointment as she realised that it wasn’t from Jake. It’s only lunch, she reminded herself, not even a dinner date. And then it hit her – Jake didn’t have her number, but she did have his. That text was never going to have been from him. Even though he hadn’t messaged her, she had the autonomy to message him. She felt a little guilty – was this fair to Teddy? But they were just going for lunch, they weren’t together… And she did really want to message Jake.

 

Amy put her phone back on charge before getting ready for bed. She cleaned her teeth for exactly two minutes, wary of over-brushing after she’d been told that she had multiple cavities as a result of doing so in the past. She washed her face, and found that it helped to clear her head.

 

She wrapped herself tightly in her floral duvet; having turned the main light off, she huddled towards the dim light her lamp provided from her bedside table. Eagerly, she pulled up Jake’s contact information and began drafting a text.

 

She honestly felt as though she had written essays quicker than this. Law was familiar – this was new territory. She eventually settled on the casual: _Hey! Was nice meeting you (properly this time). Thanks for the coffee. Amy (crazy binder lady)._

Before she could dwell on it too much, she pressed send, put her phone on charge, turned off the lamp, and rolled over to sleep. As she was drifting off she heard it vibrate, but she refused to let herself look until the morning.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jake was drifting, half-asleep in a blissful food coma. He was lying tangled in his duvet, crumbs everywhere, with _Die Hard 2_ playing faintly on his laptop, which was balanced precariously on the edge of his bed. Ever since he’d moved he’d missed the sounds of his Mum pottering around the house in the evening, so he’d taken to re-watching the films every night to help him fall asleep. Not that he’d ever let anyone know that, of course.

 

From somewhere deep within the pile of blankets, he heard his phone buzz. He was a little shocked – his phone was usually dead. It woke him up enough that he fumbled around until he found it. His heart warmed as he scrolled down and saw who it was from.

 

He shuffled up towards the headboard, pulling his duvet with him. He leant back and ensconced himself tightly within the blankets, before making a hole for his hand to slip out of. He snorted at _crazy binder lady_ , and felt a rush of nerves and excitement flood him when he looked at her name again. _Amy_.

 

He replied immediately, wanting to savour her words but also wanting more. He waited ten minutes, his attention shifting back to his laptop. He started to doze off again, and left himself drift thoughtlessly for a time, lounging lazily and enjoying the peace of his half-asleep state. He pulled himself from his slumber when the credits began to roll on the film, and he was more than a little disappointed to see that Amy was still yet to reply. He shut his laptop, dropped it onto the floor, and tucked himself into the duvet to sleep.

 

 

 

Jake woke up unusually early the next morning, and cracked his neck both ways. “Cool,” he said to himself, impressed. He tried to do his knuckles, but nothing happened. He squeezed harder. “Owie,” he pouted, holding one hand limply in the other. Shaking it off, he rolled out of bed, just avoiding stepping on his laptop.       

 

He idled in the kitchen for a while, flicking the kettle on and off. His mind kept circling around Amy. He had work in two hours, and for some reason he felt anxious. The light bulb above him, which had long since lost its shade, swung back and forth like a pendulum, casting strange shadows across the counter. The teaspoon rattled against his mug as he spooned coffee granules in, and his foot tapped anxiously against the linoleum as he waited for the kettle to boil. His feet were bare, and the resulting rush of cold air made him shiver. It travelled up his legs and settled, uncomfortably, deep within his chest. It made him feel as though he was struggling to breathe, with lungs tight, and being tied ever tighter like a rope being threaded round and round with every breath. He swallowed.

 

The kettle hissed, steam thundering out of it; the water bubbled noisily and thudded against the thin sides of the kettle’s exterior. The water splashed as it rose within the mug, Jake’s hand shaky as he poured.

 

He stirred it with drunken, unsteady fingers; the sound of the swilling water sounded loud and harsh in his ears. He moved to the small window, and leant his forehead against it, the cold soothing his head. It became clammy with condensation and sweat. He pulled back, and looked out at the early-morning sky. The sun was beginning to rise, warming the cool, dark tones at the edges of his view across the city.

 

He moved to the fridge, slowly and quietly. The floor was cold on the bare soles of his feet, each step bringing more clarity in accordance with the ever-growing light filtering in, softly, through the window. His begrudging trudge from sleep to awareness mirrored the slow rise of the sun. Opening the fridge, he pulled out the milk, the cold washing over him. He made his way back to his coffee, and added milk and sugar. He dropped the tea spoon in the sink, put the milk back in the fridge, and stumbled back towards his bedroom, wiping his face blearily.  

 

He picked up his laptop from where he’d discarded it on his floor last night, and let it tumble down atop his bedsheets, falling noiselessly and landing with a quiet thump. He sat next to it, taking a small, careful sip of his coffee to test the temperature. He tucked his legs under the duvet, wiggling his feet around to warm them up. He drank his coffee as he flicked through Facebook on his laptop, before finally dragging himself into the shower.

 

The water was hot as it hit him, but cooled as it fell in rivulets down his sides. His hair dripped and clung to his face. He washed without thinking, going through the motions whilst his thoughts continued to curl around one subject: Amy.

 

The walk to work was chilly – one of those early-Autumn mornings where the sun was shining, but the air bit at Jake’s nose and ears. His phone buzzed in his jeans pocket, but he didn’t want to take his hands out of his hoodie pockets to check it; his fingers were already tingling with the cold.

 

The bell sounded louder than usual as Jake stepped into the coffee shop. He could hear Charles, imploring empathetically that Kevin should consider making miniature turkey-shaped pastries for “Turkey Day.” Jake smiled to himself. Thanksgiving was months away – but of course Charles was already thinking about catering it in the shop. He’d told Jake on his second shift that he’d been planning his wedding menu since the age of five.

 

As Jake was donning his apron he remembered that his phone had gone off on his walk to work. He fumbled around in his jeans, sliding his phone out and checking it routinely. His heart swelled when he saw that the message was from Amy.

 

He caught sight of the time, and realised his shift had just started. He tucked his phone into his hoodie pocket and hung it up in the staff room, before jogging back down the stairs to the shop floor. He’d reply to Amy on his break, he resolved.

 

The first couple of hours passed quickly. The morning rush of students kept Jake and Charles busy, so much so that Kevin had to come out of the kitchen to assist them on the till. Nonetheless, Jake kept an eye out for Amy amongst the throng of people. His heart leapt every time he saw a dark ponytail or someone carrying a binder, but it wasn’t until just before his lunch break that he finally saw her.

 

The morning rush had died out, and the lunch rush was building; the shop wasn’t overly busy yet, so Jake could still see out of the long windows which wound around the shop’s exterior. He spotted Amy as she walked around the corner, heading towards the door. He grinned impulsively. She was talking to someone, her face animated and smiling, her eyes fond. His eyes travelled down her body, and fell on her hand, which was wrapped around the arm of her companion. The smile on Jake’s face froze. She was holding onto a man’s bicep, and the way she was looking at him made bile rise in his throat.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I want to thank everyone who has read, left kudos, and left comments on this fic. It's my first Brooklyn 99 one, so the support has been so reassuring and so lovely!
> 
> Sorry if the updates have been a little sporadic - I'm currently completing my Masters degree, and obviously the best time to start a new fic is during exam season. However, the whole story is planned out, so you shouldn't be left waiting too long between updates. I'm really excited for the next chapter after this one especially, so I hope you guys are too!
> 
> Thank you again, and I hope you enjoy this update!

That night, Amy was sat at her desk, dejected. Her lamp was dimmed, and she had her rosy-pink fairy lights on, casting a warm glow across her room. Her phone was next to her, obscured by the shadow of her laptop, but her gaze kept returning to it. She was trying to focus on work, and she would manage, for a short while; she kept finding herself drawn back into thinking about Jake and Teddy at regular intervals, however, and the essay she was typing up about the 2004 Civil Partnership Act kept fading into insignificance. She’d zone out, the words blurring as her eyes lost focus, her mind replaying the events of the day.

 

She was upset that Jake hadn’t replied to her messages. She didn’t want to admit that she was upset, but she was. She’d finally accepted this as fact, hoping that there would be some cosmic resolution as a result, and that he’d reply instantly. That’s when she knew she’d really lost it – she didn’t believe in the cosmos, or their mystical powers. Not usually, anyway. She’d replied to Jake eagerly as soon as she’d seen his text, but there was no indication that he’d even read her messages. She thought this was a little strange, as he’d been the one to instigate their text-relationship by giving her his number, but she tried to shrug it off and concentrate on her essay.

               

She did also feel a little uneasy about being so distracted by Jake. She’d once worn a diaper to an exam – nothing broke her focus. Plus, there was the slight, inconvenient issue of Teddy. Her tongue felt too big in her mouth, and she moved it around her teeth, thinking. She swallowed.

               

She’d kept telling herself that lunch wasn’t a date. But – it had felt like a date. And, she had to admit, it had been kind of nice. Teddy had been so nice. He’d held doors open for her, pulled her chair out, and always walked next to her at just the right pace. She imagined going for a walk with Jake. He’d probably either be on a sugar high and bounce along, paying her no heed, or slouch behind her, complaining that she was too fast. The thought brought a smile to her face, but she stopped herself. Jake clearly wasn’t interested. Maybe he was just busy, she reasoned to herself. And anyway – she had a lot in common with Teddy. Realistically, she hardly knew Jake. Most of their spark was probably coming from imagined situations that she was coming up with. And she’d kissed Teddy.

               

He’d taken much longer to eat than she had. He’d rambled about Pilsners for a questionably long amount of time, and she’d already figured out a system to make it seem as though she was listening: nod, and agree with the last thing he said. So far, it had seemed to be working. But it had been nice, and they’d chatted amicably with no awkward silences. They’d always got on well before, and nothing seemed to have changed.

               

When it came to paying, he immediately offered to do so. For some reason, Amy had felt irked that he’d outright refused to let her pay even half. But she’d brushed over it and smiled and said thank you, so when he reached over to squeeze her hand she’d kept smiling, and even given him a little squeeze back.

               

It seemed that this was all the ammunition he’d needed. He leant over the table awkwardly, almost knocking his fork onto the floor. Amy had focused on these minute details as he moved towards her. The folded napkins were white, but his had a big orange-coloured stain on it from where he’d wiped his mouth. It was overcast outside, and it made the warm red-brown interior of the restaurant seem more intense. Perhaps it could have been romantic. If I was here with Jake, she’d thought, and then immediately regretted it. Teddy’s lips brushed over hers gently, in a quick peck that was shy and uncertain. He’d pulled back quickly, but smiled at her, a blush beginning to colour his cheeks.

               

Teddy had led her by the arm out of the door, as though he was escorting down the stairs into a ballroom. He’d asked her a lot of questions about what she’d been up to, and she’d answered somewhat disinterestedly. However, she had appreciated the effort, and kept smiling up at him. She wasn’t sure if the smile was an encouraging one, and thus a little patronising, or a genuine one. The lunch had been enjoyable, though, and she’d felt a small, strange sadness in her belly when they’d said goodbye. He’d leant in to kiss her once more, and she let him peck at her lips. She’d noted that it didn’t feel like a romantic kiss – it felt like when a relative kissed her on the cheek. But it was Teddy, and they’d been on a date, so she assumed that it meant more than that. He’d offered to walk her home, but she had to go to a lecture. She’d looked back as they’d departed, and he did, too, offering a small wave and a smile.

               

She leant back in her chair. She was perpetually cold, and as such had a blanket draped across the back of the desk chair. She pulled it around her, and nestled into it. It was brown and thick, and she sank back into her seat, wrapping it around her torso and letting the excess fabric drape over her legs. She stared at her laptop, pressing enter and indenting the start of her next paragraph. But the words were not forthcoming, so she closed her laptop with a seal of finality.

               

She definitely liked Jake. She wasn’t sure why, but for whatever reason there was a spark there. The thought of him made her smile. But if he wasn’t going to reply to her – well, Teddy was really nice, and he was kind. Sure, he was a little boring, but she could be okay with that. She was okay with that. If Jake wasn’t going to reply to her, then she shouldn’t pass up on Teddy on the off chance that Jake might deign to talk to her.

               

There was a small niggle eating away at her: what if she was being unfair? Jake was probably busy, with work and whatever else he did. She didn’t even know what else he did. So she really shouldn’t blow her chances with Teddy over the diminutive chance of getting to know Jake. She started tugging her hair into braids, and brought her feet up to rest on the chair, tucking them up so that just her toes hung off the edge.

               

She didn’t like not having everything planned out exactly. She had a life calendar hung above her bed, with all of the important markers laid out plainly for her to see. This was a curveball that she couldn’t mark out with pen and paper. Emotions made things messy, and that was okay. But Teddy was the logical choice, so she resolved to put Jake out of her mind for the time being and focus on Teddy. He was nice, and he didn’t deserve to be messed around. She could definitely go without thinking about Jake, or the sweet way his curls flopped onto his forehead, or his broad smile that made her chest tingle, or the way he laughed as though laughing was the most important thing in the world. She groaned, undoing the braids she’d already dug into her hair before immediately re-braiding it. She wasn’t sure that the braids would cut it, and she looked guiltily towards the small balcony that stood out from her bedroom window. It was just big enough for two people to squeeze onto, and the perfect size for one person to have a cigarette.

               

Standing up, she pulled the blanket tightly around her, wearing it like a cloak. She rummaged through her carefully arranged bottom drawer, fumbling for the hidden box at the back. She pulled out a cigarette and her lighter, feeling a giddy mixture of heady shame and excitement.

               

As she stepped onto the balcony, the cold hit her in one great gust. She was up high, and could see across a good portion of the city. Her eyes roved over the colours, watching the lights below twinkle, winking brighter than the obscured stars. It reminded her of _The Great Gatsby_ , when Jay would search across the water for the green light, marking out Daisy and his greater-than-human sense of hope. She inhaled deeply, feeling the smoke fill her lungs before watching it filter out and disperse into the night sky. She wanted someone to love her like that, one day. She wondered idly if Teddy had ever read the book. She was certain that Jake had not. She doubted, for some reason, that he’d read any at all.

               

She had to stop comparing them. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair on either of them – or her, for that matter. She watched the lazy trail of smoke lift into the dark, fading into nothingness as it was whisked out over the lights of the city.


	6. Chapter 6

Teddy took Amy on another two dates that week. Amy felt torn both times – he was nice, and there was nothing really wrong with him, but he was boring. She’d admitted it to herself, but had also convinced herself that, for the time being, his niceness outweighed the fact that he was a little dull.

 

He’d taken her out for dinner twice, and the two dates had been almost indistinguishable from one another. The restaurants had been different, but so similar that Amy had hardly been able to tell them apart. Teddy had been a perfect gentleman both times, though, and Amy had enjoyed herself. It was nice to be treated from time to time, but his adherence to gender roles still stung, sometimes.

 

He always held the door open for her, and at first it has made Amy flustered. Teddy was left handed; as such, he would scoot ahead of her so that he could open the door with his left hand, and then did a sort of twirl so that he could be facing her as she entered. Amy wasn’t sure that she liked this level of attention, but she chose to let herself be flattered. She was independent, sure, but there was nothing wrong with letting someone look after her every now and then.

 

The dates had been nice, and Teddy made Amy feel secure. It didn’t seem likely that he would change drastically, if at all, based on his behaviour so far. They had intellectual conversations, which kept Amy’s interest for far longer than any of his more personal tangents.

 

The dates, however, had excited her nowhere near as much as a text she had received from Jake. He’d taken his time replying, leaving her on read for a couple of days. If anything, this had built up her nerves and excitement more; as time went on, she’d felt a growing tension in her belly that she couldn’t quite place or understand – until she received that first text, and the feeling had intensified tenfold.              

 

_Can we meet up? Away from the coffee shop. Jake_

 

It hardly said anything, but Amy immediately began reading it and re-reading it, analysing it for some sort of deeper meaning. Then she moved on to analysing herself and her morals: should she meet him when she was (kind of) dating Teddy? She resolved rather quickly that there was nothing wrong with meeting up with Jake. The fizzle of excitement aroused by the typing of her reply made her certain that she had made the right decision.

_I’d like that. What did you have in mind? Amy._

 

He didn’t keep her waiting this time. Almost as soon as her message had sent her phone buzzed with his eager reply.

 

_It’s a surprise. ;) Jake_

 

_You have to give me more than that! Which day? What time? Amy._

 

_The day after tomorrow. 2pm. Work for you? Jake_

 

Amy slipped off of her bed and wandered over to her desk, both hands clutching her phone up to her eyes. She’d taken off her contacts earlier, planning for a hot bath and an early night, so as she sunk into her desk chair she fumbled around for her glasses. She had been able to read Jake’s messages with the text on her phone screen enlarged, but for her weekly planner she’d need a little extra help.

 

Glasses on, she crouched under her desk and squinted through the thick lenses at her neatly labelled and ordered binders. Selecting her weekly planner, she pulled it out and placed it reverently on top of her desk. She flicked her desk lamp on, and flipped to the tab which had the correct week’s date written in immaculate print along it. She skimmed down the page to the date, and smiled.

 

_Works for me! Where should I meet you? Amy._

 

_Meet me at the coffee shop and we’ll go from there. Jake_

* * *

 

 

Jake had accepted that maybe, just maybe, Amy had a boyfriend. That was fine. They could be friends. He hoped that they could be _very_ good friends. He groaned and ran his hands through his hair. He left it stuck up at an angle, focusing on forcing the last slice of pizza into his mouth. Chewing was a strain, but he managed it, then wiped his greasy hands on his sweatshirt. He considered that perhaps this was the reason that he didn’t have a girlfriend, but he shrugged it off immediately, saying “Nah” aloud to no-one.

 

He went through the motions of getting ready for bed, cleaning his teeth and washing his face mechanically, giving his body no thought as he was swept away with thoughts of their date the next morning. All day at work he’d been torn between wanting to see her, wanting her to come in, but also wanting to save it, to build up the excitement until the next afternoon. He was beginning to regret asking her to meet so late – he was certain that he’d be awake early, no matter how tired he might be.

  
He collapsed into bed, tugging the duvet around him haphazardly. He was exhausted, but every time he started to doze his brain would flash with reminders of what was happening tomorrow. He could see her eyes, bright and twinkling at him as she laughed. He rolled over in the bed, picturing the soft curve of Amy’s cheeks as she smiled, the gentle wave of her hair falling past her shoulders and coming to rest on, undoubtedly, a pant suit. Jake sniggered to himself, rolling back over in the bed and pulling his tangled duvet with him; as he moved, a pile of crumbs made themselves apparent, and he kicked at them with his bare feet. He had a feeling that Amy’s bed sheets would be pristine, and his head began to spin once more. He tried to focus on something that would bore him to sleep. He remembered the store standards that Kevin had taught him on his first day, and soon drifted off.

 

Despite his certainty that he would wake early, Jake found himself blinking blearily in the bright face of his phone, which clearly said that it was already noon. His startled eyes shot open, and he groaned. He pulled the duvet over his head, burrowing further into the darkness. One of his curtains hung half-open, haphazardly drawn the night before. The midday sun shone through, and as Jake slowly pulled the duvet down, he squinted in the light. Tiny dust particles span through the slanted ray from the window, blurring as they filtered through the room. They span in all directions, displaced, as Jake threw the duvet off him and clambered to his feet, yawning heavily and stretching his arms above his head.

 

He found time going incredibly slowly, each minute inching along, the day crawling towards 2pm. He showered in slow motion, taking extra care as he scrubbed himself. By 1pm he was almost entirely ready, despite his attention to detail as he’d slicked his hair into shape and brushed his teeth, even remembering to wipe the toothpaste from around his mouth.

 

He lazed on his bed for a while, scrolling through videos of kittens hiding in hoodies, before the nerves overtook him and he decided he had to distract himself more effectively. Grabbing his keys, the Nakatomi Plaza key ring jangling, he left, letting the door slam unceremoniously behind him.

 

* * *

 

 

“Jake!” Charles called, fumbling with the latte he was passing over the counter. He scrambled away from the customer, ignoring her bemused expression, and hurried through the swing door next to the till. “What are you doing here?”

 

“Excuse me,” the woman said, “I paid for a dark chocolate slice, too.”

 

“I’m so sorry, Ma’am,” Jake said, waving Charles back towards the counter. “He’ll just grab that one for you now,” he admonished, raising an eyebrow at Charles; who, eyes down, removed a slice with glinting metal tongs, before sliding it into a paper bag. The woman took it with a smile, and nodded her thanks to Jake, who was leaning against the cold drinks cabinet by the entrance. The bell chimed as she left; there was a beat of silence, and then Charles was upon him.

 

“What are you doing here? I thought you were meeting Amy today! Have you already seen her? Tell me everything!”

 

“No, Charles, I haven’t seen her yet,” Jake laughed. Charles’s face immediately fell.

 

“Did she stand you up? Come on, have something to eat, it’s okay, buddy.”

 

“We’re meeting at two,” Jake said, opening the fridge. “Ugh. Why did I choose to work here? No orange soda. I don’t even know what half of this is. Have you ever heard of a Chilled Kombucha? ‘Cause I haven’t.”

 

“Kombucha is a type of fermented tea,” Charles said, bustling around. “Are you meeting her here?”

 

“Yep,” said Jake, letting the fridge door close, his face brimming with distaste as he eyed the selection of drinks.

 

“Well, why didn’t you tell me? I’ll make her a coffee. And I’ll make one for you. Do you want the same? Oh my God, matching coffee orders! This is too cute, Jake.”

 

“Make her a soya latte. I’ll just have a black coffee though. I can do it myself, if you want?”

 

“You’d better sit that peachy ass right back down. You need to save your energy for wooing. Ooh, have you thought about taking her back to yours and washing her hair?”

 

“I absolutely have not. Why would you even suggest something like that?”

 

“Washing a woman’s hair is an incredibly intimate act, Jake.”

 

“I don’t even want to ask why you think that.”

 

“My cousin Big Billy told me that her husband used to do it for her, before he got hit by lightening twelve times. Now he has a twitch and he might pull her hair.”

 

“Wait – Big Billy is a girl? Huh,” Jake mused, watching Charles do the steamy thing. He still wasn’t really sure what it was called, despite raising his eyebrows attentively when Kevin had shown him how to do it.

 

“Yeah, her sleep apnoea meant that she didn’t sleep well for ages, so she was always tired and grumpy, so she started stress eating pretty badly. And her name’s always been Billy.”

 

“Not a very sensitive way of dealing with a whole host of issues, but okay. And her husband got struck by lightening twelve times?”

 

“I know, and that’s not even the craziest thing-“

 

The bicycle bell above the shop door tinkled. Jake and Charles turned in unison.

 

Amy smiled, tucking her hair behind both ears. “Hey,” she said, softly.

 

 

 

                 


	7. Chapter 7

 

“Hey,” Jake beamed, awe-struck. One side of her face glowed, captured by the daylight filtering in through the wall of windows. Her eye glinted at him, sparkling in the light, before she dipped her head and smiled.

 

“Amy! You are positively glowing. What kind of moisturiser is that? And the sheen on your hair! Must be a fancy conditioner. And I bet you use just the right amount. Jake’s a lucky man.”

 

“Charles!” Hissed Jake, glaring at him as the tips of his ears burned. “I got you coffee,” he added, before Amy had a chance to respond.

 

“Thanks,” she said, her eyes tracing the lines in the floorboards. The wood was brown, with warm tones gnarled into the texture. She jumped as Jake handed her the latte. It was hot; she wrapped both hands around it, and she looked up, smiling. Jake was stood close, and she could feel his warmth through her jumper.

 

“Soya latte?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow.

 

“Of course,” she smiled, the very tips of her cheeks slowly blossoming, red petals unfurling. She broke eye contact, her body tingling. “Thank you,” she added. “Should I pay?”

 

“Don’t be silly. I work here. That means I can give free stuff to who ever I want. Right, Charles?”

 

“That’s right, Jake. You’re the man.”

 

“That is not what that means, Peralta!” Came Kevin’s voice from the kitchen.

 

“Hah. Okay. M’lady?” Jake offered his arm to Amy, who took it with a smile.

 

“Why thank you, kind Sir,” she said, laughing. Jake grabbed his coffee from the counter, and, with one last look at Charles, escorted Amy out of the shop.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“So who was that guy that shouted at you?” Amy asked. They were sat in a large park, cross-legged and facing one another on a wooden bench. Red trees arched above them, their leaves beginning to wave and be wisped away in the wind, curling slowly towards the ground. Jake threw a nut in the air and caught it expertly in his mouth.

 

“Kevin Cozner. My boss. He owns the coffee shop. I’m not entirely sure why he hired me, to be honest. I know I’m awesome, but I don’t think he thought that to begin with.”

 

“Why?” Amy eyed the bag of nuts, mentally calculating how much better she would be at catching one in her mouth. She resolved to try after Jake had finished speaking.

 

“I maaaaay have tried to argue that sex trafficking was a good thing. I read the first bit of a New Yorker article, and I saw that he had a copy in his office, so I thought I’d try to impress him.”

 

“Didn’t work, huh?”

 

“Definitely not.”

 

Amy snagged the bag of nuts. “Hey!” Jake cried, trying to snatch them back.

 

“I bet you a coffee that I can catch more in one go than you can,” Amy grinned.

 

“I raise you one burrito.”

 

“Fine,” said Amy, taking an optimistically large handful. Eyeing up Amy, Jake pushed two hands into the nuts, and pulled out such a huge quantity that some began to spill out between the gaps in his fingers.

 

“You first,” said Jake, watching her carefully. Her face was determined, a tiny crinkle between her eyebrows giving away her concentration. She re-adjusted herself, settling so that her legs were perfectly crossed, her back neat and upright. She counted out ten nuts into her left hand, before tipping her head back and tossing them in in one. Shutting her mouth around them, she smiled triumphantly.

 

“Yes!” She exclaimed. “Beat ten, Peralta.”

 

Jake grinned at her, his expression cocky. He eyed up an entire handful before thinking better of it, and dumping most of the nuts back in the bag. Amy stifled an “Ew,” her lips upturning in distaste, but she managed to keep her focus on Jake filling his hand with fifteen nuts.

 

“What’s your surname?” Jake asked, weighing the nuts in his hand, smirking.

 

“Why?”

 

“So I can use it to tease you when I win.”

 

“It’s Santiago, you jerk. But you aren’t going to get a chance to use it, anyway.”

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“Because you’re going to lose.”

 

With that, Jake took aim, launching the nuts into the air. He expertly moved, swinging his face around to catch them as they fell. Two clattered onto the slats of the bench, yet Jake still looked elated.

 

“Thirteen, Santiago. Feeling the pressure yet?”

 

“You think this is pressure?” Amy laughed. “I have seven brothers. This is nothing.” She counted out twenty nuts, and, steeling herself, threw them into the air. She manoeuvred herself, her mouth gaping. Jake would have found it funny if he hadn’t been so impressed. She caught all but one: her cheeks bulging, her eyes triumphant.

 

“Nineteen,” she managed, after she’d swallowed. “Where are you taking me for this burrito?”

 

“You think this is over? Oh, no.”

 

“Okay, but you only get one more try, Peralta.”

 

“Oh, you think you can use my surname against me?”

 

“I sure do.”

 

Jake eyed up the nuts. If he launched loads into the air, he considered, there were more for him to potentially catch. Grabbing two handfuls, he threw them into the air, bracing himself.

 

They rained down on his face, more hitting him than falling in his open mouth. With cheeks wide, he tried to send Amy a cocky grin. It failed miserably.

 

“That is gross, Jake,” Amy said, watching as he pulled nuts out of his mouth, piling them in a wet mound on his hand. She watched intently, however, her focus shifting from his saliva to the growing pile as he neared twenty.

 

“Sixteen, seventeen…” Jake trailed off, dumbstruck. “Seventeen. Huh. You win, Santiago.”

 

Amy leapt up without thinking, launching into a series of proud dance moves. Jake laughed, altogether not too upset by his defeat – if it meant that he got to see this.

 

“Yeah I do! You suck, Peralta.” Amy paused, the gyration of her hips slowing. “But I do feel bad. How about you take me for this burrito, and I’ll get food next time? You’ve already provided this spread.” She gestured widely to the assorted snacks Jake had bought; he’d made her wait outside the store as he’d dashed about, grabbing a not-so surprise picnic.

 

She immediately felt bad – had she just offered to take him on a date? But she was so caught up with enjoying herself. Jake was _fun._

“I have a better idea,” Jake offered, chest puffing out. “I reckon I can jump higher than you. Prove me wrong, and you get the burrito _and_ dinner. Prove me right, and you get to take me for dinner. Just so you know, I like Sal’s Pizza.”

 

“That nasty pizzeria near campus? What’s wrong with you?”

 

Jake’s face fell. Amy sat back down, sliding closer to him than she had been before. He offered her a small smile, and her heart ached. She wanted to lean over, to take one of his hands between both of hers, to rub soft circles into his skin. Instead, she asked: “What is it?”

 

He shrugged. “My Dad left when I was a kid. Before that he’d take me there after my Little League games. I guess I have some sort of nostalgic attachment to it. My Dad leaving didn’t bother me at all.” He laughed, maniacally. “Also, his sauce is the _best_.” His mouth curled up tentatively: the beginnings of a large, genuine grin.

 

Amy laughed. “Okay, okay. Sal’s it is.”

 

Jake’s smile flourished. “That branch there. Whoever can jump and reach it first, wins.”

 

“Oh, you’re on, Peralta.”

 

They both stood, pulling themselves up to their full heights. Amy eyed first Jake, then the branch, then Jake again. She jumped, her fingers almost brushing the branch. She frowned, frustrated. Jake, however, hardly noticed.

 

As Amy had jumped, her jumper had ridden up, revealing the skin of her taut stomach. Jake had swallowed heavily, his eyes following her side as she stretched up with her arm, the jumper inching up as she did so. He tried to look away, respectfully, but his eyes were drawn to her soft skin; so much so that as she fell back down and her jumper slid down with her, he felt as though something precious had been wrenched away from him.

 

He cracked his back for effect, cricking his neck from side to side. He bounced on the balls of his feet, pretending to calculate the exact height and angle of his jump. With ease, he leapt up and caught hold of the branch, swaying from it for a fraction of a second before his arm started to cramp and he had to let go.

 

He shrugged, shaking his arm out at the same time. “Too easy.”

 

Amy’s eyebrows knitted together. “You’re taller than me.”

 

“Not by much. Plus, you agreed to the terms prior to the bet. Don’t be a sore loser, Ames,” he said, the nickname slipping out.

 

She pouted, but relented. “Fine. Sal’s. Eugh.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

They sat in the park for another hour, laughing raucously as their bets became more and more outrageous. By the time they stood up to leave, Amy shivering in the autumnal chill, Jake had promised Amy a range of brunch, lunch, and dinner dates; Amy owed Jake a _Die Hard_ marathon, a Wii Sports contest (which Amy had sighed over, declaring that that would undoubtedly end in more stupid bets; Jake, for his part, had agreed, a huge grin on his face), and a range of take out.

 

Jake looked over at her, pulling her thin jumper down her arms as far as it would stretch, before wrapping her arms around herself to keep the cold at bay. His own leather jacket was flimsy at best, and he only had a plaid shirt on underneath, but he felt compelled to slide it off and lay it across her shoulders, giving her a small squeeze as he did. She smiled up at him, the lazy evening sun warming the side of her face, glowing orange across her cheeks and dusting the dark edges of her eyelashes.

 

“Thanks,” she murmured, voice soft. The expression on her face was unreadable, and Jake worried that he’d made her uncomfortable, but the smile was still settled about her lips.

 

They gathered their rubbish, walking it slowly towards the bin. Their chatter had lulled to a comfortable silence, broken occasionally by Jake pointing out something inane – “Look at that pigeon waddling along, hah” – and the steady movement of their bodies.

 

He wanted to draw it out for as long as possible, and suggested going for a drink. “There’s a nice bar, it’s not too far from here. The girl who’s usually behind the bar seems scary, but she’s dope.”

 

“You’ve only just moved here. How have you discovered this much about the city already?”

 

“I’m observant, Ames, what can I say?”

 

“You have been observing a lot of pigeons.”

 

“You never know, it could be a pigeon that takes down our society one day.”

 

Amy laughed. “I seriously doubt that.”

 

Jake looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “Then you’ll be the first to go.”

 

“Okay, I have no idea if you’re joking or not. Please tell me you don’t actually think pigeons are going to take us down before, say, global warming, corrupt politicians, institutionalised issues within our society?”

 

“Pff, I mean, yeah, those things are serious, but pigeons have suspicious eyes.”

 

Amy almost choked. Jake nudged her, pointing towards a fat pigeon, scuffling around a recently vacated bench for crumbs. “Plus,” he continued, “have you ever seen a baby pigeon? I swear they don’t exist.”

 

“Actually, I have,” Amy said, pride at dismantling his argument colouring her voice and expression. “My brother and I tried going for a run together. We were arguing about something, so we stopped, and there was this ugly little thing wobbling around on the ground. It looked like it had fallen out of the nest, so we had to hunt around until we found it’s mum.”

 

“Did you?”

 

“Yeah, and it didn’t want to get _off_ of me. I wanted to put it a bit closer so the mum could find it, and I had to pry it off my fingers. It was kind of cute, really.”

 

“I’m so jealous. You’ve touched a pigeon. Do you know how many diseases you probably have now?”

 

“None,” said Amy, smugly. “I have so many vaccinations. I’m vaccinated against stuff you haven’t even heard of.”

 

“What a thing to be proud of,” Jake chuckled.

 

“There’s nothing wrong with being proud of being disease-free, Jake.”

 

“True point, yeah, fair, fair. So…” He trailed off. “Did you want to get that drink?”

 

They’d come to a natural pause, Jake’s footsteps slowly as they’d neared the necessary turning for the bar. Amy turned to face him.

 

“I’d love to. But maybe not tonight.” Her face shifted, as though she was processing something, her eyes reading a mental list that he was not privy to. “I have a load of homework to do,” she added, lamely, but he somehow didn’t doubt that she did. Or, at least, that she had a lot of homework she’d made for _herself_ to do. There was no way Amy was behind on schoolwork.

 

“That’s cool. Cool cool cool. Let me walk you back at least. It’s getting dark.”

 

Amy looked as though she was about to protest, but she relented. “That would be nice. Thank you,” she added.

 

“No worries. Back towards campus?”

 

She nodded.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The walk didn’t take long, and Jake was saying goodbye all too soon. The sun was so low in the sky that it was barely visible, just skimming the horizon and partially obscured by the tops of buildings lining the streets. The glow filtered between the gaps, pushing up against the deep navy of the night sky. The moon hung, golden, creeping ever higher as the shadows grew, stretching along the pavement.

 

The night air was brisk, and, scrunched into his jacket, Amy looked beautiful. Accepting this hit Jake like a punch to the chest, ribs fracturing as he considered his next move. He wanted to kiss her. He could feel himself leaning in, agonisingly slowly, his eyes settling on her lips; bitten by the cold, the lower one glistening with damp where she’d sucked it into her mouth. He leant forward to kiss her, but instead, words tumbled out of his mouth.

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t reply the other day. At least, not straight away.”

 

“I did wonder why. You gave me your number. I thought that meant you’d want to text.” She smiled teasingly, but there was a genuine curiosity sparking in her eyes.

 

Jake hesitated, before it all came out in one big rush. “I saw you with someone. I didn’t want to be… inappropriate, I guess. And maybe I felt a little hurt. I didn’t have any reason to, though. If you have one, that’s cool. A boyfriend, I mean. I might, maybe, I don’t know – I like you. Romantic stylez. But it’s fine. I – I’m fine with it. I’d like to be your friend, Amy. I don’t have many, not here. I have Boyle, but he’s Boyle and he eats matured goats cheese and that’s just plain weird-“

 

“Jake,” Amy interrupted, bringing his tangent to an abrupt halt. She swallowed. “You must have seen me with Teddy. He’s an old friend. I knew him in my freshman year of college.” Jake heaved a heavy sigh of relief. “But – we’ve been seeing each other. Well, he’s taken me on a couple of dates. It’s not serious. But… I don’t think I should kiss you. I’m sorry,” she added, voice tiny.

 

“Cool cool cool, no doubt, no doubt. I’m sorry too. I get it.”

 

“But the thing is…” She paused. Jake’s breath hitched. “I want to.”

 

“You do?” Jake whispered, terrified that if he spoke too loud he might break the spell.

 

“Yeah,” said Amy, voice catching. “I think I need… to sort everything out first. With Teddy. “

 

“I get ya.” He smiled at her, a real, genuine smile erupting through his earlier reservations. The situation wasn’t ideal, and sure, part of him wanted to stomp off like a child – but Amy had wanted to kiss him.

 

They shared a brief, somewhat awkward hug, before Amy slipped his jacket from her shoulders and handed it back to him. She thanked him warmly; her eyes lingered on his face, their eye contact breaking after just slightly too long. He wanted nothing more than to follow her in, to slip into bed with her, to hold her, to feel her naked skin against his; but, instead, he waved as she departed, waiting until he heard the door shut firmly, and watched as a light was flicked on.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Satisfied that she was safely inside, Jake began meandering back towards his own apartment. The sun had slithered away; in its place, the moon dangled low in the sky, just another light amongst those of the city.

 

His sneakers scuffed against the pavement. He watched with mild interest as a woman hailed a taxi, waving her purse wildly, an assortment of jangling bracelets clinking as she ran. She stumbled in her heels, but caught herself, stumbling unceremoniously into the car.

 

Something about tonight was bothering him – and it wasn’t anything to do with Amy. He was glad that he’d been honest, if anything, and that his confusion had been alleviated. He knew where he stood, now, and that was better than the uncertainty.

 

It clicked. _Teddy_. He knew that name from somewhere. _But where?_ He mused as he walked, each step like the steady drip of a tap. A countdown. Tick, tick, tick. _Teddy isn’t even a common name. It’s not like Amy is casually seeing someone called John Smith. Why can’t I remember him?_

 

* * *

 

 

 

Teddy stared as Jake had leant towards Amy, quivering towards her lips. He’d paused, and Teddy had watched, eyes narrowed.

 

They’d spoken. _What were they saying?_

 

Teddy frowned. He turned the flowers over in his hands, the wrapping crinkling between his fingers. He’d come over to her apartment to surprise her, picked up some flowers that he thought she might like – plain but pretty, neat enough to add colour to her flat but not bright enough to disrupt it – and had been excited to share the news of his new home-brewing kit with her.

 

Then he’d seen Jake Peralta trying to kiss the girl he liked, and he’d turned away in disgust. He remembered Jake, and he’d never forgive him.

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Amy curled into herself, her notebook held tightly between both hands. She rocked forward, her shadow moving across the wall behind her, cast in the light from her lamp.

 

The one date – could she even call it a date? – she’d been on with Jake had been better, by far, than any she’d been on with Teddy. She felt unfair even as she thought it, one hand moving to drum quick patterns on the hard front cover of the book. Teddy was nice, and he made her smile – but Jake was raw, he was sparkling firelighters that made her guffaw with laughter, and he made something inside her float.

 

She hadn’t wanted to leave when she’d turned down his offer of a drink. She hadn’t had a drink in a long time, between college and looking for a part time job, and she felt safe enough with Jake that she wouldn’t have minded getting a bit tipsy; despite his relative unfamiliarity, he felt warm and safe. Like home, she considered, her chest unfurling. She loosened her clasp on the notebook, and picked up her phone, discarded by her thigh instead.

 

_Hi Teddy. Can we meet between classes tomorrow?_ She typed with nervous fingers.

 

His reply was immediate: _Sure, of course we can. On the lawn? What time?_

Amy sighed. He really was nice. A new layer was added to her guilt, but she folded it away neatly, pressed it to a far corner of her mind.

 

_12? My Political Approaches to Family Law and Practice seminar finishes then._

_12 is perfect._

She let her phone dangle between her fingers, swinging like a pendulum, before letting it slide back onto the duvet. She pulled herself up, padding over to her desk and flicking the smaller lamp on there. She slid out a binder from its spot, perfectly organised amongst the others for her multiple college units. She flipped to her notes on the reading that she’d done for her class tomorrow, but she kept drifting into thinking about what to say to Teddy. Reluctantly, she put her notes away, and instead gathered up her notebook from where she’d discarded it on her bed earlier.

 

She began drafting out a break-up script. It felt so unfair, pre-planning how to end things, especially since it was with Teddy. They’d known each other for such a long time. But, she decided, it was less cruel to turn up knowing exactly what to say than to bumble through and hurt his feelings more. If she was going to initiate a break up, then by God, it would be the perfect break up. She worked out exactly what she wanted and needed to say, edited it, proofread it, and then scripted a number of potential replies and rebuttals from Teddy’s perspective.

 

Her eyes felt heavy as she ironed out the last of the possible responses; closing the notebook with a solid sense of finality, she decided that she probably had done enough to prevent any unforeseen circumstances arising. Groggily, she checked the time on her phone, and felt a jolt as she read 2am on the lock screen. She hurriedly got ready for bed, still taking care to clean her teeth for exactly two minutes and to brush her hair thoroughly.

 

Idly, after she’d turned off the light and slipped under the neatly pressed sheets, she wondered what Jake’s bedtime routine looked like. Her decision made, she felt slightly less guilty about thinking of him. Eyes bleary following the removal of her contacts, she closed her eyes, and, within minutes, was asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Amy fidgeted as she waited for Teddy. Her class had just finished, and, despite her distraction the night before, she’d been able to recall perfectly every key aspect of the readings. The glow of her professor’s praise had not lasted long, however, as no sooner had they been dismissed than had Amy remembered the notebook, heavy in her bag, and exactly what its presence entailed.

 

As she’d left her apartment that morning she’d come across a neatly packaged bouquet of flowers, discarded on the pavement right outside. She’d picked them up, intrigued, but there was no card attached. Shrugging, she’d placed them upright against a nearby wall, hoping that whomever had dropped them realised and retrieved them.

 

The rest of her morning had passed in a blur, and all too soon she found herself on the lawn, awkwardly stood next to a signpost. One of the arms pointed towards the library, and she found herself longing for its security. She felt exposed, outside, waiting to be crept up on.

 

She stared at her surroundings to soothe herself: the grand expanse of the lawn, peppered with expansive trees, willows and oaks, mainly, the gentle lean of their branches and their leaves, the tips of which slowly turning brown and amber; dark wooden benches dotted along the winding pathways, each with a small inscription detailing a previous student or professor who had gone on to achieve academic greatness; clusters of students, one of which appeared to be an a cappella group, clicking their fingers in time.

 

“Boo,” came a voice from behind her, and she spun around, hands rising and forming fists. “Hey!” Said the voice. The man accompanying it stepped back, raising his hands to show his passive intentions.

 

“Oh, sorry, Teddy! You startled me.”

 

“I can see that! Shall we go and sit?”

 

Amy hummed her consent, and they began a slow meander towards the nearest bench. Teddy chattered happily about his recent classes, and Amy made a series of noncommittal noises in response.

 

As soon as they sat down Amy could feel the words coming, desperate to be blurted out. “I want to break up. I want to break us up.”

 

“Oh,” said Teddy, his voice carefully level. “It’s because of Jake, isn’t it?”

 

“Uh,” Amy mumbled. This was one reaction she had not planned for.

 

“It’s okay. I saw you two together last night. I was going to give you some flowers-“

 

“They were for me?”

 

“You know about them?”

 

“I, uh, found them on the floor when I left this morning.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Look, Amy, I don’t want to overstep. But I know Jake Peralta. And, to be honest, he’s bad news.”

 

“He is?” Amy asked, dumbstruck. This conversation was wildly off the mark. Her careful notes were all useless.

 

“I knew him before college. The town I grew up in isn’t far from here, maybe twenty or thirty minutes away. Me and Jake used to be on the same Little League team – that’s why I chose to come to college here. A lot of our games were played out here, bigger city I guess, so I knew the area pretty well anyway.”

 

“But… You must have been young?”

 

“Yeah, of course. But we went to the same high school after that.”

 

“Oh, I meant about the college thing,” said Amy, distracted. She couldn’t fathom picking a college based on some vague knowledge of the town, rather than through the careful process of making a long list, a short list, a pros and cons list, followed by one-by-one elimination.

 

“I used to come and watch baseball out here, too. Like I said, it really isn’t far from where I grew up.”

 

“I guess,” Amy said, unconvinced.

 

“But Jake. It’s none of my business, Ames, but the guy was a real bully. Used to beat me up pretty bad. Some kid wanted to play chess with him once, and do you know what he did? He shot the chess pieces. I wasn’t the only one who got hurt by him.”

 

“Jake? Really?”

 

“It’s your choice, it really is, but remember that I only want what’s best for you. To be honest, Ames, I don’t see why he’d be interested in you. You’re like me, Amy, not like him.”

 

Amy stood suddenly, her patience with this conversation rapidly running out. “I have to get to my next class,” she lied, lugging her well-laden backpack up onto her shoulder. Before Teddy had a chance to respond, she had scurried back up the path, and headed towards the library.

 

* * *

 

 

She stewed in the library for a while, trying to distract herself with a thick tome of _Jurisprudence: A Broader Function of Law and the Legal System_ , taking down quotations that she thought may be useful. Her brain struggled to focus, and instead kept turning over Teddy’s words. What had he meant, saying that Jake wouldn’t be interested in someone like her? Aside from her concern at his words, and his description of Jake and his behaviour, Amy felt an undeniable surge of irritation towards Teddy. Although she was sure he hadn’t meant to be rude, his assertation that she would be unlikeable by Jake had stung.

 

Her confusion tripled when her phone buzzed. _Am eating a burrito. (OK, it’s gummy bears in a fruit roll up.) Made me think of you. Jake_

With a sigh, she turned her phone over, so that the screen was facing down on the table. It vibrated once more, but she didn’t move to check it.

 

Having found a particularly interesting chapter of _Jurisprudence_ on legal reasoning, Amy managed to focus solidly on her work until her next and final class of the day. Packing her notes away, she decided it was time to turn her phone over.

 

_Have you ever read Harry Potter? Of course you have, you’re such a dork. Charles is telling me to hurry up and read it. Is it any good? Charles also told me that a fruit roll up has none of the same qualities as a tortilla. Rescue me. Jake_

She began to type out a reply, a small smile blossoming across her face; realising what she was doing, however, she locked her phone and slid it into her pocket. She grabbed her bag and, slinging it over her shoulder, hurried to her class.

 

She barely registered her surroundings as she marched across campus, and she slipped, unnoticed, into a seat near the front. Not the very front row, where she would often sit and eagerly raise her hand; instead, she sat a few back, distracted. Her lecturer smiled at her as he entered, and seemed somewhat taken aback that she didn’t offer to help set up as she usually did.

 

Her notes were less thorough than usual, and she wrote what she heard without taking any of it in. Her brain would pick up key words, and she’d become interested in the topic; too soon, though, it would drift back to her conversation with Teddy.

 

For the first time, she left immediately after her lecture ended. She half-registered a girl shouting her name from farther back in the lecture theatre, but the door had already swung shut behind her as she realised.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Amy groaned as her phone buzzed. She’d marched home, and had flopped onto her bed, lying on her back, her binders and books discarded on the sheets next to her. The dying rays of evening sunshine splintered through her net curtains, speckling the room with golden patches of light.

 

Resigning herself to opening the message, she pulled her phone from her pocket. Her eyes immediately darted to her read messages from Jake, and she squinted. The new message was from neither Teddy nor Jake: it was from her coursemate, Kylie.

 

_Um, Earth to Ames????!!!! What was with you today????_

 

Amy sighed. Her fingers tapped out a response quickly. _Sorry. I’ve been distracted. Stressed about the essay for Frost._

_As IF. I know for a fact you’ve already finished it AND proof read. And probably proof read it again… What’s going on Ames?_

Amy sat up, a rush of motivation hitting her. She had already finished the essay, and she had a meeting booked in a week before it was due to review her structure. Her argument, she was sure, was flawless. She worked hard, and she did well. She wasn’t going to let _boys_ ruin that.

 

She pulled her hair into a ponytail. The decisive swish it made against the back of her neck made her smile. She grabbed her headphones and her gym card, putting them on her desk, placing them down next to her empty water bottle. She changed quickly, and pulled on her trainers without even undoing the laces. She then grimaced, tugged them off, unlaced them, and put them on properly. She cocked her head to the side and back, smiling.

 

Amy jogged to the gym, the fresh night air biting at her hands and face. She’d just about warmed up when the blast of the air conditioning hit her from behind the sliding glass doors of the gym. She shimmied through, scanning her card seamlessly before making her way up the stairs to the top floor. Downstairs, there were free weights and machines designed for heavy lifting; Amy tended to think of it as the grunt room, wherein everyone deadlifting or benching made animalistic sounds as they moved. She kept her exhalations to breaths, when she lifted. She preferred upstairs, however: to one side of the staircase was the studio, kept separate by a thin wall, and to the other were rows of treadmills, stairmasters, cross trainers, rowing machines, and bikes.

 

She settled herself at her favourite treadmill. The gym was heaving, and a small jolt of success hit her as she popped her card into the cavity at the front of treadmill number four. Usually at this time of day she struggled to find a treadmill at all, let alone her favourite one.

 

As she began to move, her thoughts crept back to Jake and Teddy; this time, she let them flow. It came down, she decided, to two things: the matter of feelings, and the matter of trust.

 

Unfortunately, these were two of the least logical, and often most irrational, aspects of human existence: things that could not be quantified, even by Amy Santiago, into some semblance of sense. She’d put her feelings in order before, though, so she decided to start there.

 

Before speaking to Teddy she’d accepted that her feelings were stronger towards Jake. And, she realised, her reaction to his messages and her hurt were, if anything, further signs that the strange sensation in her chest was not, as one may assume, to do with the cardio; rather, it was related to Jake. She wanted to message him, to say that yes, he should read _Harry Potter_ , and that no, she hated to say it, but she agreed with Charles, that fruit roll ups weren’t tortillas.

 

She slowed, looking out of the long window. It was dark out, and the edges of the window were edged with condensation. She took a swig from her water bottle and smoothed her stray hairs back into place. Then she held down the plus button and increased her speed once more.

 

Trust was, perhaps, harder to discern than how she felt. Amy decided to tackle it as though it were a difficult essay question.

 

One, she thought. Teddy. She’d known him for longer, which could be cause for greater trust. But why had he been at her apartment last night? And why was she so wary of him, now? Wasn’t it weird that he knew Jake?

 

Amy shook herself. The nature of the questions suggested to her that she did not, for some reason, trust Teddy.

 

Perhaps, she considered, she didn’t want to trust Teddy because that would mean that her instinctual affection towards Jake was misplaced. Trusting Teddy meant, by extension, that she couldn’t trust Jake. Which came back to feelings. Amy pressed the plus again, and eyed the incline button to the left.

 

Two. Teddy made more sense, on paper, for her than Jake did. Maybe Teddy was right – she should be with someone like him. But that had stung, and when she examined it she came right back round to the conclusion that she liked Jake. Who she should or shouldn’t trust. Amy upped the incline.

 

Very rarely did Amy think the words _screw it_. But, as her heart and lungs and legs hammered away, her brain reached breaking point. The only answer, she realised, was to speak to Jake. She'd had fun with him, and - not that she wanted to admit it - that was something of a rare occurrence for her. She wanted to see him again. She needed more information.

 

* * *

 

 

Amy enjoyed the walk home. It seemed to stretch ahead of her, brimming with possibility. The stars seemed to wink, morphing into the streetlights lining her path. The cold was ever-present, though, and she was beginning to shiver and regret not showering at the gym when she walked straight into someone.

 

“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry-“

 

“Amy?” The man interrupted. Amy recognised his voice, and she smiled instinctively. Her eyes met his, and her smile froze on her lips.

 

“Jake? What happened?”

 

Jake’s right eye was swollen and bruised, an ugly purple glistening across his distended skin. There was a deep cut beneath his eye, which had stopped bleeding but was still sticky and shiny. It seemed parasitic, drawing life away from his face, leaving it pallid and sickly. The contrast between the white and the purple reminded Amy of her Gothic literature lessons, of the sense of the uncanny. She swallowed thickly. “Are you okay?” She prompted.

 

“Come with me,” he said, holding out his arm. “I’ll explain.”

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

FIVE HOURS EARLIER

 

 

Jake grabbed his jacket from the staff room and skipped down the steps to the shop floor. He slid behind the till and made himself a coffee, a small smile playing about his lips. Kevin eyed him from the back room.

 

“What are you smiling about, Peralta?”

 

Jake shrugged, the smile blossoming into a full-blown grin. “Nothing.”

 

“Have you stolen something? If so, the honourable thing to do would be to return it.”

 

Jake laughed. “Of course I haven’t. Have you ever been in love, Kevin?”

 

“I am married, Jake.”

 

“Yeah, but like, like-love. Not old people love. Not married love.”

 

“I take this incoherent babbling to mean that you like someone. And your smile suggests that, they, perhaps, like you back?”

 

Jake slipped a lid onto his coffee. “You’d make a good detective, Kev.”

 

“Please do not call me that.”

 

Jake took his coffee and pranced out of the shop. “Okay byeeeee!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jake bounced home, his stride buoyant and a smile permanently etched upon his lips. The sky was darkening, the streetlights flickering on ahead of him.

 

He was just finishing the last dregs of his coffee when he was pushed up against the wire fence lining the sidewalk. He could feel the sharp metal against his cheekbone, and the pressure increased as whoever shoved him held him against the fence, forcing the metal into his face. He felt his skin break against the force; his near-empty coffee cup bounced onto the floor, pressed away from his mouth.

 

“Hey-“ he started, but a hand was slapped over his mouth. His eyes searched for anybody nearby desperately, but in the early evening most people were just getting home, leaving few still out commuting. The surrounding area was deserted, a fact that Jake tried to ignore as he felt the warmth of his own blood seeping down his cheek. He grunted, trying to face the man who’d grabbed him.

 

“Jake Peralta,” the man scoffed. Jake squirmed. He recognised the voice from somewhere, but he couldn’t quite place it. He struggled against the man, desperately wishing that he were already a police officer. His own incompetence scared him, and he urged himself to wiggle free.

 

The figure dragged him into an alley. Jake saw this as an opportunity to break free, and increased his attempts to escape. But the man had surprise on his side, and had managed to gather his arms up behind his back with one hand, and keep his mouth firmly covered with the other. Jake tried to pull his arms apart, certain that he was strong enough, but the man shoved him up against a wall and Jake crumpled.

 

Half-fallen against the wall, Jake finally managed to crane his head enough to see the man holding him. His features were obscured by the darkness, and he was grainy in the low light, but Jake squinted and could just about make him out. The hand on his mouth slipped, and he took his opportunity to talk his way out of the situation.

 

“Teddy? Teddy Wells?”

 

“I’m surprised you remember me.” Teddy forced Jake further along the wall, so that he was cornered between it and a mostly-empty skip. His hand rested at Jake’s throat: a threat. As inappropriate as it was, Jake wished that this were a cooler kidnapping (mugging?) situation.

 

“Of course I do,” Jake said, in his best, most charming voice. Teddy’s hand constricted around his neck.

 

“I’ll do the talking. I’m surprised you remember me, Jake, because you always took whatever I wanted. Like I wasn’t there. You had everything.”

 

“In high school? You do remember my ponytail, right? I wasn’t exactly a teen idol, Teddy.”

 

Teddy’s hand closed around Jake’s throat. Jake’s eyes boggled as he struggled to breathe. “Still _so_ funny. I heard you say I was boring, you know. I heard you laughing about it. And then you shoved me into that locker. How does it feel when it’s the other way around?”

 

Teddy’s hand relented, just a little; just enough that Jake could cough out a response. “Well, what actually happened there was that I tripped and fell into the locker myself, and you just happened to be there. Honest, Teddy. As for the boring part – well, okay, I may have said that.”

 

“That is the weakest cover up I’ve ever heard. Now you’re not just a bully, you’re a liar too. And you’re trying to take my Amy away from me.”

 

“Look – I’m sorry that you feel that way, but it was honestly an accident. Wait – I’m not taking Amy away from you.”

 

“I saw you lean in. I know you wanted to kiss her.”

 

“Wanted to, yeah. I didn’t though, did I?”

 

“That’s enough.” Teddy’s hand closed around Jake’s neck once more. Jake tried to figure a way to _Die Hard_ himself out of the situation, but with his airflow restricted his brain was struggling to think straight, if at all. Teddy seemed to notice that he wasn’t paying as much attention to him as before; he brought his left fist up, and smashed it into Jake’s eye.

 

The motion freed up the hand around Jake’s neck, and he managed to cough out a quick repartee. “You do realise this makes you the bully, right?”

 

“Just – just leave Amy alone,” Teddy growled, but his lip quivered as he surveyed the damage he’d inflicted upon Jake’s face. With that, he released Jake, and scarpered away. Jake was left, bruised and bloodied, sore and confused.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

NOW

 

 

They walked in uncomfortable silence, Jake clutching onto Amy’s arm as if for support. She held him steady, rubbing soothing circles into his hand. He smiled down at her, loose-lipped and sloppy, his eyes unfocused and his single curl spilling across his forehead, strands separated and sticky.

 

Amy wondered where they were going. Jake, however, seemed to have somewhere in mind, so she kept her questions to herself and tried to enjoy the feeling of his hand in hers. His hand was cold – concerningly so – so she tried to rub some warmth back into it, her soft fingers working against his pallid, waxy skin.

 

Jake led Amy down a meandering path, lined with towering brownstones and dim streetlights, tall trees sprouting through the sidewalk at regular intervals. A small, curved bench sat between two lamps, and Jake nudged her towards it. She sat down, reluctantly letting his hand slide free.

 

He turned to face her, his face totally serious for, she thought, perhaps the first time since they’d met. “When you told me about Teddy,” he began, “I knew I recognised the name from somewhere – it’s not super common – but I didn’t remember why. And I haven’t seen him for years, but I guess he doesn’t remember me too fondly.” He gestured at his face. A small smile danced about his lips: it was, he admitted to himself, pretty cool that he had an enemy. At Amy’s concerned look, however, he pulled himself back into serious mode.

 

“He… I saw him earlier today. He said that you bullied him in school. That someone wanted to play chess and you shot the chess pieces…”

 

“But that’s just how you play chess!” Jake beamed. Amy shook her head.

 

“I feel like you’re seriously misinformed,” she chastised, but she believed him.

 

“I wasn’t a bully, Amy. I promise you that. I called him boring – literally once, and he had just spent half an hour telling me about morse code – and I tripped and fell into a locker not long after, and he was stood near me.”

 

Amy reached over and took both of his hands in hers, pulling them into her lap. There was something about him that just begged her to trust him. The slight dimple in his chin, the incline of his eyebrows; it was all too imperfect for him to be trying, for him to be forcing his story on her. It skittered out, like a newborn foal trying to stand, the words forming almost as if they were a surprise to him. Something inside her solidified. She trusted him.

 

His story didn’t entirely make sense, but she attributed that to his probable head injuries. He told it earnestly, though, and she was heartbroken for him. He looked scared, and that didn’t suit Jake. He usually looked so cavalier, ready to take down anything that came his way.

 

His eye looked sore, and she longed to cover it with something cold, to make him a hot drink and to kiss his cheek, then his mouth, making sure he knew he was safe. The streetlamps made the purple sheen of the bruise glisten, and she felt bile rise in her throat. As Jake’s voice thinned, she asked if his throat was okay, and he told her in straight terms how Teddy had held him up by his neck. Her heart ached for him, and she longed to run gentle fingers down his neck, soothing his aches and pains. She settled instead for giving his hands a gentle squeeze; at his soft smile, something in her broke.

 

Despite her uncertainty, she knew who she believed. Plus, she thought, Jake was sat opposite her with a black eye. Teddy – she assumed – was unharmed. And though she couldn’t imagine Teddy hurting anyone, she couldn’t imagine Jake making something like this up.

 

Although she had no real proof – a situation Amy did not enjoy being in – her gut was telling her to trust Jake. She relaxed into him, and he slipped his hands from hers, opting instead to pull her against him. She nestled into his side, feeling the steady dip and rise of his chest.

 

He gave her a gentle squeeze, and she looked up at him, her hair brushing against his chin. He smoothed it back down with a soft smile, his eyes placid. The moment felt quiet, comfortable, so Amy tucked her head back against his chest.

 

They sat for a while, neither one wanting to move; both uncertain as to when, or if, they would find a moment like this again. Jake felt Amy’s warmth radiate against his body, keeping the night’s chill at bay. His breaths were soothing to her, and she sank against him, her eyes shutting after a while. He, however, tried to pick stars out of the night sky. The light pollution suffocated the city, a glowing orb pushing against the dark. His eyes traced the fade of light into dark, and followed the curve of the clouds drawing in.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry for the long wait between this chapter and the last. It's a lil longer to make up for it. Hope you enjoy!! <3

 

Amy jostled her tote bag full of binders, moving it so that it settled against the rucksack on her back. The bell jangled as she stepped through the coffee shop’s doorway, and immediately Jake signalled to Charles, who slid a coffee onto the end counter before gesturing wildly at Amy – telling her, she assumed, that it was for her.

 

Raising her shoulder to slide her bag back into place, she walked past the small queue and took the coffee. It said AMES on it, in a messy, smudged scrawl, and she smiled. From behind the counter Jake caught her eye, and he winked. She smiled back at him, a blush crawling up her neck and across her cheeks. As Charles turned to Jake, flamboyantly pivoting like a ballerina, Amy moved to sit by the window, the coffee hot in her hands.

 

Since she’d bumped into Jake, they’d fallen into a routine. She would go to college, he would work, and she would sit in the coffee shop whenever she had reading or essays to work on. Whenever her coffee cup was nearing empty, Jake would walk past, nonchalant as anything, and slide a new one onto the table next to her laptop. He’d say nothing and continue walking past, sometimes deftly picking up the empty cup, before giving her a silly look when he reached the safety of the counter. She felt bad, and had tried to pay every time, but even Kevin had come to accept that Amy’s coffees were free.

 

She’d taken the matter to him a week or so after Jake had started hand-delivering the lattes to her; guilt-ridden, she’d knocked delicately on the office door, her voice offering a wavering “Knock knock!” as her knuckles had rapped against the gnarled wood. He’d peered at her, appearing to look down even though he was sat and she was standing. Flustered, Amy had proffered a twenty dollar bill, forgetting to explain why. Kevin had raised an eyebrow, and she’d blurted out “For the coffees!”

 

Kevin had sighed. “Has Peralta been abusing the void button on the till again?”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

Kevin had leant forward in his chair, the tips of his fingers meeting in a pyramid in front of his chin. “I can review every transaction that goes through the tills. I thought Charles was bad enough. Jake is somehow even worse. Recently, there has been an influx of soya lattes going through the tills, at no cost. However, you keep him quiet. Personally,” he leant back, a small smile playing about his lips, “I think the increased productivity outweighs the profit loss.”

 

Since then, Amy had settled into her new workspace. She’d buy her lunch there, too, so that she was at least contributing monetarily in some way; sometimes, she’d slip an extra five dollar bill over the counter, and march off before Jake or Charles could realise, knowing that it would end up in the tip jar. Their reactions always made her smile: Jake would pout and pull faces at her, whilst Charles would beam and wave the note at her, mouthing a broad “Thank you!” and often ignoring the customer he was meant to be serving in favour of smiling at her for an unnecessarily long period of time.

 

Jake would watch her, when she’d unfurled all of her papers and set her table up accordingly. Her focus amazed him; he’d realised this repeatedly as he’d been serving a customer, then immediately forgetting what they’d ordered. Amy, however, would sip her latte without taking her eyes off whatever she was reading. Once, Jake had even stared wide-eyed as she’d eaten an entire baguette without breaking focus, even managing to brush crumbs from her lap without looking.

 

As Jake’s black eye fades, so too does their burgeoning relationship. Neither of them bring up the conversation they’d had, their half-muddled feelings being pushed aside as they shifted easily, if unhappily, into a familiar routine; one of friendship.

 

Amy nudged the coffee along the table, making space for the multitude of files and papers she had with her. Jake slid into the booth next to her, holding a slightly damp brown paper bag and a steaming polystyrene cup.

 

“Your timing is impeccable,” he grinned. “Guess who’s on their break?”

 

Amy rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “I have work to do, Jake.”

 

“You can wait ten minutes, surely. Look at this,” he said, rustling the paper bag.

 

“Whatever that is, it stinks.”

 

“Oh, but get this. Charles brought it in for me. It’s a mystery bag.”

 

“So code for something gross?”

 

“You guessed it! Taking bets now: what disgusting thing does Charles think I’m going to be eating for my lunch today?”

 

“Fish eggs,” Amy said, re-aligning her papers after Jake had scattered them.

 

“Boring,” said Jake, pretending to peep. “I raise you – dog milk.”

 

“What, like, just a bag of milk?” Amy laughed.

 

Jake raised his eyebrows, his face serious. “I’ve seen it before, Ames.”

 

“Come on, open it.”

 

Jake peeled the bag open, moving excruciatingly slowly. Amy watched his expression, waiting carefully for a minute quirk of his lips or eyebrows. Instead, he gagged, squeezed the bag shut, and immediately ran to the toilet.

 

Amy looked concerned as he came back into the shop. The paper bag, she assumed, had been disposed of. He was pasty white, and there was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. She patted his arm comfortingly, but had to ask: “Come on, Jake, you have got to tell me what was in there!”

 

“Oh, Amy. You do not want to know.”

 

* * *

 

 

Amy spent the next few hours revising steadily for her exam, highlighting key points and drafting note cards. It was the first one of the year, and she was excited for the challenge; however, there was an undercurrent of stress, which helped to keep her focused.

 

A coffee was pushed in front of her eye line, and she turned to see Jake holding a matching cup. “I didn’t want to interrupt,” he began, but his eyes sparkled and Amy got the feeling that he didn’t feel all that bad about it. “I actually need to ask a favour.”

 

Amy’s stomach clenched. Her breathing felt manual and difficult, and she tried to ignore it. “What is it?”

 

“You’re, like, a huge nerd, right?”

 

“You’re asking me for a favour and wording it like _that_?”

 

“Okay, bad start, my bad, I’m sorry. What I’m _trying_ to say is that you’re super smart-“

 

“Correct, Peralta.”

 

“-And that I really need your help organising, well, my life.” He leant in, comically close, and whispered: “I’ll even buy you a new binder.”

 

Amy sat up, if possible, even straighter. “Get one with cascading tabs, and you’ve got a deal.”

 

“Done,” said Jake. “My place. Seven work for you? I’ll send you the address.”

 

* * *

 

 

Amy managed to keep her focus for another hour; after that, it was too close to seven, and her thoughts were a jumble of law and coffees and divorce and _Jake_.

 

“Smoosh that booty up, Ames,” said Charles, pretending to bump her with an exaggerated swivel of his hips. She scooted along the bench-like seat of the booth, and Charles turned as fully as he could to face her. She wondered, for a second, why he hadn’t just sat opposite; quickly, she decided not to think about it.

 

“Hi, Charles.”

 

“How’s the revision going?”

 

“It’s not too bad, thanks! I don’t know if I’ve got enough done today,” Amy said with a sigh. Charles looked in awe at the piles of notes that had grown throughout the day, and shook his head in mild disbelief. “How was your shift?”

 

“Oh, it was great! But the best part was seeing you and Jake sat together. You make such a perfect couple.”

 

Amy squirmed. “Um. Thanks. I guess?”

 

“You guess?! Oh, Amy, Amy, Amy. I’d love to have what you two have.”

 

“Which is what, exactly?”

 

“How can you not see it?” Charles shrieked, his voice becoming increasingly shrill. Amy turned to see if anyone was listening, but the shop was deserted. Charles sighed, and, without waiting for a reply, began his explanation. “You two are honestly soulmates. The coffee shop meet-cute, the whole opposites attract thing-“

 

“We’re just friends, Charles,” Amy said, with a sad smile.

 

Charles sighed, loud and over-dramatic. He clutched at his heart, and his body sank lifelessly against the chair. “I just want my best friend to be happy. Jake, I mean, obviously. Not you. You just broke my heart.”

 

Amy pulled her mouth into a smile, but she thought, _yeah, mine too_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Amy knocked on Jake’s door at 6:59pm exactly. She heard clattering from behind the door, and something that sounded like a chair falling over, followed by a scrape and a muffled exclamation. She smiled to herself, tucking her hair behind her ears, as the door was yanked open.

 

“Hey,” said Jake; his hair was ruffled, and his eyelids were droopy. His mouth pulled into a lopsided smile as his eyes met hers, and he ran a self-conscious hand through his tangled mop of hair.

 

“Hi,” Amy replied. They didn’t speak as she followed him up a narrow, winding flight of stairs, which led to three doorways. Jake went into the one straight ahead, and, looking around nervously, Amy followed.

 

The doorway, in turn, led to another stairwell, which curled around the outskirts of the house. It levelled out somewhere near the top, Amy assumed, and trailed off into a short hallway; at the end of which, past a broad window with a built-in wooden seat, was another door. Jake pushed it open, and flashed Amy a cheeky smile. “Sorry. It’s usually cleaner than this.”

 

Amy, for her part, immediately got the sense that it was usually not any cleaner than this, and was, in fact, likely to be much more dirty. She could see a pile of clothes built up crookedly on what looked like a massage chair, at the far end of the room. There actually appeared to be multiple massage chairs, collectively sat in front of an exposed brick wall.

 

There was a large television screen, underneath which lay half-toppled piles of DVDS and blu-rays, even though Amy couldn’t spot a blu-ray player anywhere amongst the DVD player and PS4.

 

The ceiling half-slanted to one side, with large skylights embedded in the roof. One of them was propped open, casting a long shadow across the bare wooden floor. The first stars peeped through the opening, shrouded in places by the thick pane of glass.

 

Jake held out an arm, gesturing for Amy to keep moving. “This way, Madam,” he sniggered, and she slapped him lightly on the arm. He clutched at it with his other hand, moaning and fake-sobbing. She raised an eyebrow, and he immediately stopped; he stood up straight and smiled, and said, “No, okay, but we do need to go this way.”

 

“Where are we going?” Amy asked, hefting the pile of books under her arm into a more comfortable position. Jake had already begun walking, and he turned his head around comically to talk to her.

 

“To the massage chairs, duh. Why would you not want a back rub while you help me with my finances?”

 

Amy shrugged, and dumped her books onto a battered dining table, which was in between some of the assorted chairs but didn’t seem to be aligned with any of them in particular. Jake disappeared around the corner for a while, so she settled herself in one of the chairs and scooted it up close to the table. She rubbed idly at the layered rings of coffee stains, inwardly tutting at his clear lack of coasters. Then Jake reappeared, holding something, which glinted in the dim lamp light, triumphantly in the air.

 

“My new binder!” Amy exclaimed, leaping up from the table. Jake laughed.

 

“Yep,” he said, handing it to her. She ran her hands over it reverently, counting the tabs down the side and beaming. She turned to Jake, wanting to hug him; instead, her eyes met his, and she said “Thank you, so much,” before scuttling back to her seat and pulling out her notebook, already mentally invested in plans for what she could fill it with.

 

“Don’t thank me yet,” he smiled, grimly, taking a seat beside her.

 

“Is it that bad?” Amy asked, putting the notebook to one side but still eyeing the new binder fondly.

 

“I do so much overtime, Ames. I want to be able to move to New York, and I need some serious money for that. But the overtime isn’t quite making it to becoming savings. Fix it for me?”

 

Amy rolled her eyes, but scooted closer to Jake. “We’ll start with your bank statements. Then we can see how much is going in, and how much is coming out.”

 

“Cool cool cool. Before we start… No judgements, right?”

 

“Right,” said Amy, uncapping a highlighter. “Have you printed your bank statements out?”

 

“I don’t have a printer,” Jake scoffed. “I have an app on my phone though – oh, it’s dead. It’s just a useless brick.”

 

“Okay,” Amy said, sitting up straighter. “Right. Do you have any accessible records of your income and outgoings?”

 

“Maybe on my laptop. Hold on,” Jake said, clambering out of the chair and scampering off around the corner once more.

 

Amy surveyed the room while he was gone, listening to his rummaging in what she assumed was the next room. The brick wall to her side was draped in lengths of lights, each a glowing yellow bulb hung from thick black wire. There was a dartboard on the far wall, and a number of holes surrounding it, ranging from pin-pricks and scratches to large chunks. Slightly higher than the dartboard was a basketball hoop, haphazardly hung and sporting a limp net.

 

Then Jake careened around the corner, this time proudly clasping a battered MacBook which looked as though it had seen better days.

 

“Right. Business time, Ames. Time to get serious.” He flipped open the laptop, and brought up a bank statement. He pushed it towards Amy, whose frown deepened the further she read.

 

“Jake. I’m not surprised you have no money! You spent two hundred dollars on – oh my God, one pair of sneakers!”

 

“Hey, you said no judgement!”

 

“Fine, I’m sorry. But – a ten kilo bar of chocolate?”

 

Jake shrugged. “I get snacky.”

 

“Okay,” Amy said, as she pulled a large pad towards her. “I’m going to write down some easy ways you can save money. Like bulk buying, meal prepping, not buying six massage chairs.”

 

“I appreciate the help, Ames, but you can’t stop me from acquiring more massage chairs.”

 

“Acquiring is fine. Buying is not.”

 

Jake snorted, but he relented and let Amy list numerous ways in which he could save money. As she spoke, he watched the crinkles at the corners of her eyes, shifting minutely as she thought. Her hand raced across the page, and he idly wondered if she knew shorthand.

 

Amy eventually pulled the page neatly from the pad and handed it over. Jake immediately went to fold it, but at Amy’s horrified gasp he lay it down, flat, on the table instead. She shivered hotly, but took a deep breath.

 

“Do you want a drink? Sorry, I probably should’ve asked sooner.” Jake smiled at her, embarrassed. “I’m not great at the whole hosting thing. Or anything adult-y.”

 

“It’s fine,” Amy said, offering a small smile in return. “Some water would be great. Thank you,” she added.

 

“Ew. Who drinks water?”

“People who want to stay alive?”

 

“Pfft. As if. You don’t need water to stay _alive_ , Amy.” Jake said this with such fervent and conviction that Amy, for a second, almost believed it to be true. But Jake stood, and walked, for the first time, in the opposite direction of the corner. Intrigued, Amy followed him into the kitchen.

 

It didn’t quite match the living room, despite the fact there was no doorway separating the two, only a vague archway which Jake had filled with copper lights. The kitchen was sleek and black, with an intimidatingly large fridge which, when Jake opened it to remove a large bottle of orange soda, appeared to be mostly empty, save for a few take out boxes stashed at the back.

 

As Jake filled a glass for himself with orange soda, and one for her with water, Amy asked: “So why are you saving the money?”

 

Jake handed her the glass. It was cold to the touch, and she shivered involuntarily. Something panged in his chest; he wanted to keep her warm and safe. Instead of acting on these impulses, however, he shrugged. “I want to sign up for the police academy. I guess I need money to do that.”

 

“Have you looked into it much?” Amy asked, as they crossed back into the living room.

 

“Sure,” said Jake, sitting down. He placed his soda on the table; Amy cringed at the wet mark it left. Jake settled back in the chair, fumbling around for the remote before turning it on. The rollers churned against his back, the sound rhythmic. “I mean, enough to know I want to go. I think I have to pay for the tuition at the academy – it’s an academy, right, so school, and you pay to go to school.”

 

Amy cocked her head at his logic, but sipped her water and said nothing. Reluctantly, she placed her glass on the table, too.

 

“New York is expensive, too, so no matter what I need money.”

 

“I feel like you get paid to go to the police academy, not the other way around,” Amy said. “Shall we have a look?” She asked, but she was already pulling his laptop towards her.

 

“Sure,” Jake said. “I’ll be right back.”

 

“Mmm,” Amy mumbled in response, absorbed in her reading.

 

Jake came back holding a soft, worn-looking hoodie in one hand, and the entire bottle of orange soda in the other. He slung the hoodie over the back of Amy’s chair casually, before taking his seat next to her once more.

 

“Jake,” she began, her voice serious, “it says here that you need college credits. But I was right – you get your salary from the beginning of training at the academy. Have you read into this at all?”

 

“I told you, a bit,” Jake shrugged it off, but his brow furrowed an almost imperceptible amount. He yanked the laptop back towards him, and his frown deepened as he scrolled down the page. Amy decided to leave him to it, pulling out her own laptop and taking notes on a case study. After a few minutes of silence, she paused.

 

“Why New York?”

 

“Hmmm? Oh. I don’t know. I’ve always wanted to join the NYPD. Just sounds cool, doesn’t it? Better than, like, Midwestern PD. Or Texas PD. Ugh.”

 

Amy snorted. “You know those aren’t real.”

 

“Texas PD must be. Surely!”

 

“Texas City PD. Dallas PD. I don’t know if I’d trust you as a detective,” Amy teased. Then she softened, and added, “There are other training programs that don’t require college credits, you know.”

 

“Gotta work for what you want, Ames.”

 

Amy scoffed. “I know. I’m just saying – you have options.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

They fell back into a lull of silence, broken only by the clatter of keys on their laptops and Jake’s huffs. Outside, the world shifted, evening blurring into night. The skylight grew ever darker; Amy’s eyes started to itch and ache. Her contacts felt dry, and she longed to find her glasses so that she could remove them. She was, however, unsure as to whether or not she was ready to cross that bridge with Jake just yet.

 

Jake leant back in his chair. “I’m getting snacky.”

 

Amy looked at her watch. “We’ve only been at this a few hours.”

 

“But I’m huuuungry,” Jake moaned. “And my brain hurts.”

 

“Fine,” said Amy, tidying her work into neatly organised piles. “Let’s get some food. As long as we can stop at this Polish place?”

 

“That’s cool. I just want some nuts. And maybe a pizza. Or some noodles. Ooooh.”

 

“Come on,” Amy laughed. “I think a walk might do us both some good.”

 

Jake’s apartment was further from the centre than Amy’s, but the walk was pretty: long high-rise streets sprawling out on either side, lined with archaic trees and floral hedges, dotted intermittently with tall streetlights which glowed amber against the night sky. The air was bitingly cold, and Amy pulled her scarf up around her face, so that just her eyes were peeping out. Jake laughed, but his chest warmed with affection as the scarf slipped, revealing her reddened nose.

 

Their hands brushed as they walked, a hundred near-touches as they move; with cold fingertips that receded eagerly into sleeves, they continued on. Happening too often to be mere coincidence, their sheathed knuckles bumped softly against one another.

 

“In here,” Amy said, nodding towards a small shop, tucked between a dark laundromat and silent houses. The yellow light spilled onto the street, warm and inviting. Jake hustled her in, encouraging her to get more food than she needed.

 

“Please could I get a hot chocolate, two potato pancakes, and a pierogie? Thank you,” she smiled.

 

“By two pancakes, she means six. And three – what did you call them? – pierogies.”

 

“Jake!”

 

Jake just shrugged. The small woman behind the counter laughed, and added them onto her total. Amy rolled her eyes and sighed, but smiled her thanks. As she went to pay, Jake darted in front of her and placed his card on the reader.

 

“Too fast, can’t catch me, Ames.”

 

“Jake, you’re an idiot. Aren’t you in debt?”

 

“I’m hurt. If you really knew me, you’d know that I’m in crushing debt.”

 

Amy tried not to laugh, but couldn’t help herself. “Thank you,” she said, taking the warm pancakes between both hands and holding them close to her chest.

 

“Plus,” he added, “I more than doubled your order. Only fair,” he shrugged.

 

“I’m pretty sure I’m not going to be able to eat all of this.”

 

“I’ll help,” offered Jake. They started walking, Amy taking the pierogies and pancakes; Jake refused to let her struggle with the hot chocolate, and carried it with a martyr-like expression on his face, which made Amy giggle. The sound blossomed in the air, warming the cold bite of dark.

 

They stumbled upon a dimly lit alley, with paper balloons strung in hoards between buildings. The sizzle of hot food filled the street, and Jake grabbed Amy by the elbow, and, careful not to jostle her food, pulled her towards a wide noodle stand, glistening with grease.

 

His eyes widened as he stared, and he ordered immediately. He took a step back as he watched the scrape of the noodles, the flip of the frying pan, and the hurried packing into the cardboard container. With the lid barely closed, he took his dinner and they began to make their way back to the apartment.

 

* * *

 

 

The walk was quiet and content; the second they set foot inside, however, they began teasing one another amongst their chatter. Until, however, they opened their food, the hot steam pooling in front of them on the table. Jake brought over cutlery, which felt damp to the touch – Amy deduced that he must’ve quickly washed some before bringing it over. There was comparative silence as they ate, save for the scraping of knives against cardboard and the heavy breathing that seemed to accompany Jake’s method of eating.

 

Amy could barely finished the two potato pancakes that she’d originally ordered, but Jake coerced her into keeping the rest as later-night snacks. “I’ll get snacky again, for sure,” he’d told her, and his dedication to snacking had convinced her.

 

They stayed up until the dawn came, pearly blues washing through the skylight. Amy’s head lolled gently against the table, her hair sprawled across her back and onto her laptop.

 

Jake yawned and stretched out his back, before standing and gently wrapping his hoodie around Amy’s shoulders. He then tucked some of her hair away from her face, and his gaze settled on her eyes. Shut, they let her long, dark eyelashes fan against her cheeks. It hit him, then: she was beautiful.

 

Amy shifted in her sleep. Jake worried that she may be uncomfortable, and gave her a small shake. She did not respond.

 

He sighed, and slowly moved his arms to cup underneath her. He lifted her gently, trying not to jostle her. She moved slightly, and he stilled; anxiously, he looked down at her. She softened against him, moving her head, which she tucked against his chest. The same burning, growing sensation from earlier filled his chest, and he moved carefully around the corner and into his bedroom.

 

He smiled to himself, smug. The bed wasn’t made, meaning that he didn’t have to perform any difficult manoeuvres to tuck Amy under his duvet. He lay her down before pulling the sheets up, ensuring that she was well covered. She rolled onto her side immediately, and settled.

 

Jake yawned again. He ran a hand through his rumpled hair, and made his way towards the sofa. Flopping out face-first, he fell asleep almost immediately.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

 

 

Amy sighed, flipping a page in her textbook heavily. Her exam had gone well, she supposed, but she’d found it more difficult than she’d expected. As a result, she had doubled her efforts in regards to studying, and the information was settling at the front of her brain, refusing to sink in.

 

She was sat in PB&J, tucked into a secluded corner. She sipped at her latte, and sighed again. She looked over at Jake, who had a small line permanently etched into his brow. He rubbed his hands against his apron, his expression exasperated.

 

Jake had increased his hours at the coffee shop in order to save up more rapidly, lest he be able to go to college to attain the sixty necessary credits to undertake his police training at the academy. Having messed up the third order of the day, he rubbed the fabric of his apron between his hands, annoyed.

 

He could see Amy in the corner. Perfect, organised Amy, who, he doubted, would mess up anything, ever. She looked stressed, and it added to his building anger. What did she have to be stressed about?

 

“Excuse me,” a short woman said. She could barely see over the counter, and Jake had failed to notice her, distracted as he was. She repeated herself: “I said, excuse me.”

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” Jake said, traces of sarcasm lining his words. He hoped that it was indistinguishable from good customer service. “What can I get for you?”

 

He made the coffee in silence, not turning even when he heard the lady tut loudly at him. He was focused on his own issues: money, college, and exhaustion. He’d had no idea that police training required college credits, and that meant he’d had to save up far more money than he’d anticipated. The extra hours he’d taken on at work were getting to him; he’d worked the last six days in a row, and he was tiring quickly. Plus, he thought, his mind working on rotation, he had no idea what he’d even need to study, or if there were any classes he’d be interested in.

 

He tried to force a smile as he passed the drink over, and she flashed a small one back. He felt a little better, until Amy dragged herself and a textbook over to the counter and groaned loudly.

 

“This is impossible,” she said. It looked as though she’d started braiding plaits into her hair, and one was fraying down its length.

 

“What is?” Jake barked, but he softened a little when he saw her lip quivering slightly. He began making her a coffee, and turned away as she spoke.

 

“I’ve never found an exam difficult before. You know? It’s really getting to me. I’m trying to put in as many hours as I can, and sure, it wasn’t super hard, just harder than I expected-“

 

Jake turned and slammed the coffee down, making Amy falter. It splashed down the sides of the cup, pooling on the counter. “Some of us have real world problems,” Jake snapped.

 

Amy turned without retort, and silently began packing up her things. Without a word she left the coffee shop, leaving the spilt coffee on the counter next to Jake.

 

* * *

 

 

Amy’s heart pounded as she marched home, full of anger and adrenaline and, underneath, an undercutting sadness which she tried desperately to quell. Jake’s words flashed around her brain on repeat; at times sparking fury, others despair. She felt guilty, too, for unloading on him; Jake clearly had his own difficulties to deal with. She sighed, and a passing pedestrian looked at her and stepped farther away.

 

Her apartment made her feel trapped, the weight of Jake’s words heavier when she had nothing to do but dwell on them. She discarded her college work, neatly, before changing into her gym clothes. Part of her wanted to bump into Jake on the way again, but she doubted that it would happen. When trying to confront the realty of it, however, she decided that avoiding him was for the best. Maybe.

 

Her eyes darted around the streets as she moved to the gym, walking slower in what she termed ‘Jake Catchment Areas’. She then immediately regretted it, and made herself walk a little faster.

 

The gym felt warm and inviting, and she turned her music up right until the point that her phone warned her that it was, perhaps, too loud. It helped to block out her unwanted thoughts, though, so she left it right at the border and settled herself on the elliptical. She typed out a quick text and sent it to Kylie, before tucking her phone into the cavity and drowning out her mind with music and movement.

 

* * *

 

 

The end of Jake’s shift came quickly; since his earlier outburst, he’d functioned on autopilot, and his walk home was much the same. He walked without thought or cranial observation, choosing instead to focus on nothing: the feeling of the ground beneath his feet, the intake of breath through his nose, and the bite of the autumnal air.

 

As he curled up the stairwell towards his apartment, he dimly realised that he was hungry. The feeling unfurled in his stomach, and clawed its way up his throat. He walked immediately to his booze and take-out shelf, and flicked past the bottle of port that Kevin’s husband had suggested he try to the menus. His gut clenched as he eyed the noodles, and he pushed that flyer to the back. Instead, he opted for pizza, and put on _Die Hard_ to block out his emotions as he waited.

 

He ate his pizza in bed, arched like a cat around his laptop. He kept reaching for his phone, aching to text Amy, to apologise. But every time he crumbled, unsure as to what to say. He drafted one, once, but he got as far as “Sorry” before deleting it. It felt empty, the bright screen of his phone insincere. He drifted off to sleep eventually, moving restlessly throughout the night.

 

* * *

 

 

Jake woke to find himself tangled and sweaty in his duvet, the covers encircling him like rope. He struggled, rising and falling on the bed like a fish, before pulling the sheets from his body. He lay for a moment, staring at the ceiling, before fumbling for his phone.

 

It was dead, and he sighed impatiently, before scrambling around his room on the hunt for his charger. As soon as it flashed to life he sat next to it, the floor cold against his bare legs. He dialled Amy’s number with shaking fingers, and held it as close to his ear as he could with it plugged into the wall.

 

The dull, repetitive tone of the ringing drives him mad, and time stretched endlessly as he waited, nervous for her to pick up. The ringing stopped, and his heart leapt; only to be crushed by the following: “Welcome to Amy’s voicemail. The person you’re calling is currently unavailable. Please leave your message after the tone.”

 

As the monotone voice spoke, Jake’s heart dropped. He moved his thumb to end the call, and then his body stilled. He sat, upright, allowing the cold of the floor to chill his skin, and make its way up into his bones.

 

He dropped the phone to the floor, and run both hands through his hair. His fingers tapped anxiously against the palm of his other hand, and he stood abruptly. Leaving his phone on the floor, he made his way into the kitchen.

 

His chest remained constricted as he put four slices of bread into the toaster. As he rummaged in the cupboard for his chocolate spread he imagined the sound of the phone ringing, over and over, followed by the numb click of the empty receiver.

 

He retrieved his phone after eating, listening to the boiling kettle as he clumsily typed her number in once more. He’d decided to make a coffee, so that he had something to distract himself with should it go to voicemail again.

 

As it rang, Jake lost hope with every chime. The kettle sounded as though it was accelerating in the other room, speeding towards completion. Just as it hit boiling point, the receiver clicked, and Amy’s voice, thick with sleep, mumbled “Hello?”

 

“It’s me! Hi. Oh – it’s Jake.”

 

“Oh. Hi.” Amy sounded somewhat more awake, but more confused. “You’ve never rung me before.”

 

“I know,” Jake replied, smiling to himself at how _cute_ sleepy Amy was. Her voice sounded slow and heavy, her words coming out between pauses and way laden by heavy breaths. His stomach, however, was still in knots. “I needed to. To say sorry for yesterday. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

 

“It’s okay, Jake.” It sounded as though Amy was shifting, pulling herself into an upright position. “I didn’t mean to go on about my stuff when you’ve got so much going on-“

 

“Please, Ames, don’t. You should always be able to talk about your stuff. That’s what friends are for, right?” He inwardly cursed at himself for putting himself in the friendzone.

 

“I guess so,” Amy said, her voice tinged with disappointment.

 

“You’re not up?” Jake asked, trying to move on from his blunder.

 

“No. I, uh, I went out last night.” There was more shifting. “I tried to set my alarms, but Rosa wouldn’t let me, and then Kylie was sick everywhere – and I mean _everywhere_ – and I had to get her home, so I guess I forgot to set them. Or Rosa’s threats of smashing my phone with her axe stayed in my subconscious.”

 

“Hold up,” Jake grinned. “Rosa as in Rosa Diaz?”

 

“Yeah. You know her?”

 

“Remember when we almost went for a drink? Rosa is the dope scary girl who works behind the bar. She acts like she’s all tough, and she is, like, damn, but she also gives me free drinks sometimes. But only drinks she thinks count as real drinks. She won’t lets me have my woo woos.”

 

Amy laughed, and Jake’s stomach finally unfurled. “Can we go and get coffee? I don’t know about you, but I’m definitely in need of some.”

 

“Of course,” Jake replied, the now-cool water in the kettle long since forgotten.

 

* * *

 

 

Amy was sat in a far corner by a wide window, framed by the dark wooden panels beside her. As Jake neared and his eyes adjusted to the light, he could see her smiling. There were two coffees on the table, and she moved to take a small sip from the one directly in front of her. Her hair was piled atop her head in a messy bun, and she was wearing an oversized hoodie; for the first time, Jake realised, he was seeing her not immaculately made up, with her hair in a slick ponytail nor wearing a pant suit. His heart swelled at the sight, and he slipped between tables as quickly as he could to reach her.

 

He clattered into his seat, excited, and she groaned, leaning forwards to rest her clammy forehead on the cool table.

 

“Sorry,” he laughed, and he clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the noise.

 

“It’s fine,” Amy pouted, lifting her head slowly. “It’s my own fault, really. That’s for you,” she said, nodding towards the coffee opposite her.

 

It was then that Jake realised Amy was wearing _glasses._ Thick, chunky grandma glasses. She noticed him staring, and rolled her eyes. “I lost one of my contacts last night.”

 

“You don’t have spares?” Jake was shocked.

 

“Of course I do. But it made my eye sore, and I don’t have anywhere important to be today.”

 

“This isn’t important to you?” Jake teased.

 

“You know what I mean,” Amy said, a small smile playing about her lips.

 

Jake took a large gulp from his coffee, and breathed out a large, relaxed sigh. “Thanks for this. Wow. That is some strong coffee.”

 

“Maybe the stuff you make is weak.” Amy shrugged.

 

“Not true! This stuff is insane. It’s good, though. Anyway,” Jake added, leaning forward and crossing his arms on the table. “I can’t believe you’ve met Rosa!”

 

Amy grinned, though she rubbed her fingertips into her temples as she spoke. “She’s so _cool._ We figured out that this girl sat at the bar was stealing drinks – I mean, she had a whole bottle of vodka wedged into her purse kinda stealing drinks – and we did some detective work and, well,” Amy paused, looking proud, “we’re the Sleuth Sisters now.”

 

“Did you come up with that name, or did Rosa?” Jake laughed.

 

“I did. But she went along with it. I think she may have gone home with the girl that was stealing after that.” Amy punctuated this information with a long sip of coffee. Jake followed suit, sitting back in his chair. They sat in silence for a short while, Jake tapping his foot, albeit quietly, under the table.

 

“I am sorry, Ames. I shouldn’t have said what I said.” Jake stared resolutely at the curling wood grain on the table, the small shapes dancing before his eyes. The silence was broken; he waited.

 

Amy shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”

 

“It is, though. Sure, I’m stressed, but still.” Jake raised his gaze to meet hers. “That doesn’t mean you can’t be. So I’m sorry for taking it out on you, when really I should’ve been taking it out on Charles.” He smiled, a wonky grin that, to Amy, seemed more like a peace offering than a smile.

 

“Jake,” Amy laughed, but she held his gaze. “It’s fine. I’m sorry, too. I just get a little pig-headed when it comes to school. I guess I forgot that real-world, non-college-related problems exist.”

 

“We good?” Jake asked, the smile starting to meet his eyes.

 

“Of course we are.”

 

They finished their coffees, chatting about Rosa and the mysterious girl she’d gone home with. Jake stood and offered his arm after they’d finished; Amy left a tip, and Jake exclaimed “For the opposition? How dare you!” before she had to drag him out by the elbow, both of them laughing raucously.

 

Jake walked Amy to campus; she insisted that she had work to do, despite her hangover.

 

“You’re crazy,” Jake retorted, but knew she was not to be argued with. “You don’t have your books?”

 

“Flash drive, baby!” Amy beamed, pulling it out of her hoodie pocket.

 

“You are an incredible woman,” Jake said, somewhat awed; Amy turned away to hide her smile.

 

They hugged as they said goodbye. Amy tucked her head under Jake’s chin, and he gave her a small squeeze before stepping away. He turned and waved as he walked off, turning to smile broadly at her. Amy’s heart caught in her chest, and she held on to that feeling for the rest of the day.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you guys ready for my favourite chapter so far? Yeah you are!

 

Amy tapped her fingers rhythmically against the communal wooden table in the library. She had settled herself upstairs, in one of the silent work floors; there were a few people sat along from her, each in their own small cubicle-like section. The table was made as though it were a number of private stations, each equipped with plugs and a computer, and separated by barriers which came up to Amy’s collar.

 

A boy narrowed his eyes at her, and her fingers stilled. She’d had a semi-productive day: she’d found a new case study to analyse, but her focus was beginning to wane, her brain choosing instead to give in to her hangover.

 

She closed down the computer, and ejected her memory stick. She’d had enough, for now; another coffee was necessary.

 

The walk across campus was soothing, and her headache receded enough that she could finally piece together the argument that had been eluding her throughout the day. She rushed to the café, after that, wanting to sit down quickly and write it down, and to begin drawing a loose framework with which she could examine it. She stopped in the student shop to pick up a new notebook, and tried to not linger for _too_ long; she studied each in turn, running her fingertips along the binding and inspecting every cover. This led to a lengthy internal debate about which pen to purchase, too, and she eventually settled on a neat black liner, which she decided would look nice against the cream of the paper. She sniffed at her purchases discreetly, before heading to the counter, and then out of the door.

 

The café was warm and welcoming. There were a number of large windows, each of which showing a partial view of the orange trees outside. Over the hum of the machines and the click of the till drawer, a crow cawed loudly outside. Amy was just considering getting a pumpkin spice latte instead of her usual order when Teddy waved at her.

 

He had been sat before, but he stood so as to beckon her over. Sighing quietly, she turned away from the short queue and gave him an abrupt wave back. He rushed over to the empty seat opposite him and pulled it out for her. She smiled grimly, but said “Thank you” as she took the seat and pulled it up to the small, round table.

 

“How have you been?” Teddy asked, his smile almost painfully wide.

“Really well, thank you. How about you?” Amy’s toes shuffled awkwardly along the linoleum floor.

“Yeah, good. Look – there’s no point beating around the bush,” Teddy said. Amy felt uncomfortably as though she’d heard him say those words before. He huffed out a laugh, and it sounded calculated. “We’re the same, Ames,” he finished lamely.

 

Amy stilled as he used her nickname. Jake called her that, and Kylie; people she was close to, people she trusted. She longed for Jake to be sat across from her, his eyes trailing from her eyes down to her lips, his own pulling back in that great way of his and forming a giant, goofy smile. Instead, there was Teddy, a look of gaudy, triumphant hope swelling about his eyes and mouth.

 

Her silence prompted him to continue talking. He scrambled for his words, like the revs of an engine unable to start. “We are! We would make such a good couple. A perfect couple, actually. Better than you and Jake. I know he’s the reason you don’t want me, that he made you all confused, but it’s okay, Ames. I forgive you.”

“You forgive me?” Amy asked; she could hardly keep the scorn out of her voice.

“I do. It was a blip. You were confused-“

“Why do you keep saying that? I’m not _confused_. You punched Jake in the face.”

“Is that what he said happened?” Teddy laughed, his voice maniacal.

“Yes, and I believe him, so no matter what you’re about to say, I’m not listening, Teddy.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands up, palms facing Amy. “Guess I won’t tell you my side of the story, then.”

“That’s _fine_. Look – I don’t want to argue with you. You’re a good guy. Except for the punching. We’re still friends-“

“You don’t know that I punched anyone. Do you have proof?”

“Well, no. But I trust Jake.”

 

Teddy stood suddenly, his chair scraping harshly along the floor. His shoes squeaked loudly as he pushed it in under the table, and he ensured that it was neatly tucked away before he looked at Amy again. “I like you, Amy. Okay? But you need to figure this out before we can be together. You need to learn that you can’t trust Jake. And, when you do – which you will, by the way – I’ll be here, waiting, ready to take you back with open arms. Because I’m a nice guy, Ames.”

 

With that, he leant over, kissed the top of her head, inhaled deeply, close to her hair, and left.

 

The barista leant across the till. He, along with the few other scattered customers, seemed to have all been watching intently. He propped an elbow on the counter, and raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m bettin’ you need a coffee after that, huh?”

 

* * *

 

 

Jake pulled out a stool from under the bar, scraping it obnoxiously loudly and throwing a mournful look at Charles. Immediately, Charles scuttled over to him, carrying a large black coffee. “You want anything to eat, Jake-in-the-Box?”

 

“One: never call me that again. Two: nah, I’ve got these.” Jake pulled a length of sour places from somewhere deep within his pocket.

“You look strange,” Charles said, his eyes narrowing. Then his mouth dropped open, and his eyes darted around, roving across Jake’s body. “Oh my God! Did you get beaten up again?”

“What? No! Charles, I didn’t get beaten up. No – I just think I might be feeling. Some feelings. Smort. Noice.”

“It’s Amy, isn’t it?” Cooed Charles, as he slipped out from behind the counter, despite the growing number of customers waiting in the queue. There was one other barista behind the till, who looked at Charles despairingly.

 

Jake sighed, his shoulders dropping. “Yeah.”

“Come on Jakey, spill! You know you can tell me everything.”

“Isn’t it anything?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know you can tell me everything. Not anything.”

“But I want you to tell me everything!”

Jake rolled his eyes. “When do you finish?”

“Eight,” said Charles, edging back towards the till; he was watched hawkishly by a number of customers, some of them staring disapprovingly.

“I’ll meet you here, okay? We can grab a drink.”

“I can’t wait!” Charles trilled, dancing behind the counter and swiping his till card. “Next!”

 

* * *

 

 

Amy marched home, determined. She called Kylie as she walked, holding the phone up to her ear and prepared to not take no for an answer. Kylie answered almost immediately, but groaned when she heard the tone of Amy’s voice.

 

“I need a drink,” Amy said. Kylie groaned loudly again.

“I’m still hungover from last night. I’m in a duvet pile right now, Ames. It’s taken me in and raised me as one of its own. I can’t just abandon it-“

“Please, Kyles,” implored Amy.

 “Fine,” Kylie sighed. “Hair of the dog, I suppose. I’ll get my lashes on.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

The sign moved soundlessly in the wind, save for the gentle tap against the wall of the building as it made contact. It was rhythmic, and it drove Jake mad.

 

He fidgeted distractedly, watching the PB&J’s logo swing forwards and backwards. The bell atop the door rang as a woman entered, her hair pulled back in a neat bun. He sighed, and looked down at his wrist, before remembering that he wasn’t wearing a watch. He instead slid his phone out of his pocket: 8:07. Charles should be finished soon.

 

His eyes roved across the street before coming to settle on his sneakers. They were one of his favourite pairs, modern and made recently but with a call back to a more vintage style. His mouth curled upwards into an appreciative smile as Charles bustled out of the shop.

 

“Jake! It is so good to see you!”

Jake laughed. “You saw me, what, two hours ago?”

“Time doth not change a man’s heart.”

“That makes no sense. You ready?”

“I was born ready. Where are we going?”

“For a drive. To your house,” Jake added. “You need to get changed.”

“Why am I getting changed?”

“’Cause we’re going for a drink. Or twelve. And that,” he said, with a pointed look at Charles’s pink shirt, “is not coming with us.”

 

* * *

 

 

They talked animatedly in the car, and Jake began to foster a deep appreciation for Charles and his friendship. Moving could have been far lonelier, he realised, and threw a large smile in his direction. Charles smiled back, his eyes crinkling, and Jake nodded at the stereo.

“Turn it up,” he said loudly, talking over the thrum of the wind coming in through the rolled down windows. They’d almost reached Charles’s apartment – well, basement, he corrected himself – when a snippet of the lyrics caught his attention.

 

_She was a black haired beauty with big dark eyes_

 

Charles rolled the volume wheel, and flung his head back so he could sing along: “Out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy, out in the backseat of my 60’s Chevy.” At this, Jake flung an arm out of the window and banged on the side of his car, turning to face Charles as he joined in:

“Workin’ on mysteries without any clues, workin’ on our night moves!”

 

The streets rolled past as they sped along; the road was relatively clear, and Jake’s headlights lit the way, the white lines in the middle of the road being rapidly eaten up by his car. Tall trees lined the way: they seemed to stretch up, alive and infused with the joy of the song. As they became entrenched once more in suburbia the streetlights began to increase in number, their shine dancing across the windows of the car and flaring in spots, bouncing off the mirrors and the curved metallic edges of the bonnet.

 

The song ended as they pulled up next to Charles’s home, and Jake parked up as Charles turned off the radio. Charles hurried inside, heading for a secluded doorway around the side of the building rather than through the ornate front door.

 

Jake rolled up the windows, beginning to feel the autumnal chill creeping around the exposed skin of his hands and face. He looked out of the window, past the pile of donut sugar on the ledge and the speckled finger prints on the glass. A couple were walking past, gloved hands holding tightly onto one another. She turned to smile at the man, who looked down at her and placed a soft kiss on the top of her forehead. Something inside of Jake squeezed, and he looked away.

 

Charles ran back out of the house, and flung the car door open, breathing heavily. He was wearing dress shoes, trousers, and a white shirt. Jake rolled his eyes, but he smiled, and started the engine once more.

 

* * *

 

 

Kylie tipped back an orange-coloured shot, snorting. She was sat with Amy in a dimly lit booth, tucked around the corner from the main bar. Amy was giggling uncontrollably, holding her glass halfway to her lips.

 

“I thought you were hungover,” she teased.

“Not anymore,” Kylie swaggered. “Now I’m _drunk_.”

“I wonder how good your general knowledge would be, right now.”

“Impeccable,” said Kylie, swallowing a burp. “We should start a trivia team.”

Amy laughed. “You know I’d love that.”

“We’d need to think of a name. And, you know, find some quizzes.”

“How’s this: _You’re a Quizzard, Harry_?”

“It’s good. But I think we can do better,” Kylie said, eyeing the barman. “Another round, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Amy agreed, finally raising her drink to her mouth and tipping it back in one.

 

* * *

 

 

Jake adjusted his shirt as he and Charles filed into the bar. It was fairly busy, and they eased their way through the scattered crowds as one.

 

“You should undo some buttons,” suggested Charles, waggling his eyebrows.

“Thanks, but no thanks, Magnum P.I.”

 

The barman came over, running a hand across his sweaty forehead and pushing back his hair. He took a deep breath and pasted on a smile. “What can I get for you both?”

 

Jake looked at Charles. Charles looked at Jake. “Eight kamikaze shots, please.”

“And a beer. And – a cinzano.”

“A cinzano? Really, Charles?”

 

Charles shrugged. They took their drinks and headed towards a quieter area, settling into their chairs away from the main, more crowded area by the bar. Charles leant forward eagerly, his eyes trained fixedly on Jake. “What’s going on, Jakey?”

 

Jake sighed heavily, his chest rising underneath the fabric of his shirt. He took a swig of his beer, then said: “I just don’t really know how to deal with – this. These, uh,” he coughed, “feelings. I guess.”

“Feelings are a beautiful gift, Jake. I’d give anything to find the girl of my dreams.”

“I don’t like Amy, Charles.”

Charles raised one eyebrow sceptically.

“Okay, I might like Amy. But-“

“But _nothing_. You like her. That’s the simplest thing in the world.”

“What do I do?” Jake groaned, putting his head in both hands.

“First, we get drunk,” Charles said matter-of-factly. “Then, you talk to her.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

“Not straight away, God no, are you crazy?”

“Okay, sorry, jeez. I’ll talk to Amy, but only after I’ve got drunk and then got not drunk. Got it. How are you, anyway?”

“Oh, you know me. I’m fine. My landlady has been much nicer to me lately – she remembered my name the other day. And I went on a date last week-“

“Oh God, I remember-“

“-And it made me realise that I’m looking, when I need to be focusing inwards. I need to look at myself. If I focus on making myself happy, the perfect lady will walk straight into my life.” As he said this, Charles looked up hopefully, as though such a woman may be coming straight towards him as he spoke.

“I mean, looking might help you physically find her-“

“Nope, I’m done, Jake. Ever since I moved out of Daddy Boyle’s house, I’ve been on the lookout. I figure, why not take some time for myself? It’s what Cosmo says I should do. _Stop looking, start finding yourself_. Lose those extra few pounds, use a face mask, have a bubble bath, y’know?”

“You don’t need to lose any weight, Charles. Or use a face mask. Or have a bubble bath, actually. But if that makes you happy, then go for it, man.”

Charles took a refined sip of his cinzano. “Why thank you, Jake. It does, so I shall.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

Amy had moved on from shouting, to dancing, to making suggestive gestures, to crying. It started out as small sniffles as she sipped at her drink, and Kylie sighed, patting her friend on the shoulder. “What’s up, Ames?”

“I saw Teddy earlier,” she sobbed, her chest heaving. “It was awful.”

“Teddy? I thought you were friends?”

“We weeeeere,” she moaned, before hiccupping loudly. “Then he asked me out. But I don’t like him, I like Jake.”

“The barista?”

  
“Yeauh,” Amy mumbled, wiping at her eyes with a napkin. “The _cute_ barista. Teddy punched him in the face. And he keeps saying that we’re the same, that Jake doesn’t – that Jake couldn’t like meeee.” She crumpled on the last word, dissolving into broken sobs and wringing the used napkin between her fingers.

 

“I’m sure he does,” Kylie said soothingly, keeping her tone low and even. She moved to sit on the same side of the table as Amy, and her eyes narrowed. “Wait – uh, sorry, Ames, but isn’t that Jake over there?”

“What?” Amy asked, sliding down in her seat. “Where?”

“Look, with the little guy,” Kylie gestured.

“Charles?” Amy sniffled.

“Sure,” shrugged Kylie.

“Oh God,” said Amy, wiping furiously at her eyes. Mascara was leaking down her face, so Kylie pulled her around to face her and fixed her makeup with a quick dab of the napkin.

 

“How – how’d you do that?”

“So much practice, hun. Now, I think you need another drink.”

Amy’s eyes widened. “Seven drinks?”

“You can do it, babe. Drink those tears away.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jake laughed raucously, his eyes brimming with tears. “Oh my God, Charles, you never said it ended like that!”

“She honestly exploded, Jake.”

“How does that even happen?”

“Nobody knows,” Charles shrugged. “Police say it’s a cold case. Unexplained mystery. I tried to sell it to the Discovery Channel, but no luck there. They said it was too weird.”

 

Jake snorted, and wiped at his eyes. “More drinks?”

Charles wobbled in his seat, but his eyes shone with glee. “Heck yeah!”

“You stay here, Bambi. I’ll get these.”

 

Jake stumbled over to the bar, pulling notes out of his wallet. He leant against the counter unsteadily, and turned to look through squinted eyes for the bartender. Instead, he came face to face with Amy.

 

“Ames!” He beamed. Then he took stock of her teary eyes, and his face fell. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Amy sniffled, a small smile crossing her lips. “I’m good, now.”

“Can I?” Jake asked, gesturing to the empty seats opposite her.  
“May I,” sneered Kylie, but she nodded at him to sit.

“So what’s up?” Jake asked, reaching for Amy’s hand. She let him take it, and he gave her fingers a soft squeeze.

“Just – drunk,” she laughed, with a small hiccup.

“She’s fine,” said Kylie, moving closer to her protectively. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m out with Charles – oh man, I should go get him, hold on-“ Jake said, stumbling out of his seat, and Amy and Kylie both leant out of the booth in sync to watch as he enthusiastically filled Charles in. Charles grinned, apparently equally enthused, and they hurried back towards the girls.

 

They slid into the opposite seats. Under the table, Kylie rubbed her ankle against Charles’s leg. His head cocked, and his eyes widened, but he rubbed back nonetheless, and shot her a quick wink.

 

Jake nudged Amy, and they shared a small smile. “I’m going to the bathroom,” Amy suggested, eyeing Jake.

“Yeah, me too,” he said, following her lead. He took her hand and led her outside, through the swelling crowd clustered around the bar and out into the smoking area. The air was cold, but there were warm heated lamps dotted around, with groups of people stood close to each of them, huddled together.

 

“Do you smoke?” Jake asked, pulling Amy up to a mostly empty heat lamp.

  
“Definitely not. Do you?”

“Nah,” said Jake, but he puffed out his chest. “I tried, once. My Dad actually gave it to me. Said it would make me more of a man.” He deflated as he spoke, until he seemed withered and small next to Amy. “I coughed, a lot, and gave it straight back to him. Haven’t touched one since.”

“That’s horrible,” Amy frowned.

“Yeah,” said Jake, scratching the back of his neck. He coughed. “Are you okay now? What was really wrong, earlier?”

 

Amy leant her weight against him, and told him about her earlier encounter with Teddy. As she spoke, he pulled her closer to him, ensconcing her in his long, warm arms. She melted into him, sinking against his body.

 

He thought back to what he’d seen from his car earlier, and he dipped his head down to press a chaste kiss to her forehead. She lifted her chin up to meet his eyes, stray smoke streaming behind them, stark against the night sky and the glow from the heat lamps.

 

There was silence, it seemed, despite the hum of drunken voices behind them, and their heavy breathing, blowing warm steam into the air. Jake leant down, his eyes steady and focused on hers. They dropped to her lips, and she titled her chin up. She wobbled slightly, and he steadied her, moving both hands to reach across her cheeks. His hands were warm, and slightly callused, and they spread to cover most of her face. Then he pulled her close, and she leant up, pressing onto her tiptoes.

 

His lips were warm against hers, and they pressed, soft, against her mouth; which opened, slightly, a delicate parting which urged him to move his hands again, to wrap around her, to keep her close.

 

The kiss was hungry, yet slow; as though they were desperate, but only because they had finally found the person that could satiate them. Finally, they parted, and Jake pressed gentle kisses at the corner of Amy’s mouth, trailing them to her cheek, to her temple, and back up to her forehead, before pulling her in for a hug once more.

 

 


End file.
